


In Which Red Robin Is Done With Marvel's Shit

by Magical_Devil_Alex



Series: DC Shenanigans [5]
Category: Batman - All Media Types, DCU, Daredevil (TV), Marvel, Marvel Cinematic Universe, Red Robin (Comics), The Defenders (Marvel TV), X-Men - All Media Types
Genre: Angst, BAMF Tim Drake, Basically, Crack Treated Seriously, Crossover, Dimension Travel, Gen, Implied/Referenced Rape/Non-con, Little bit of angst, he's done with everyone's shit, tim is trying okay
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-02-10
Updated: 2019-10-25
Packaged: 2019-10-25 19:01:28
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 38
Words: 51,966
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17730818
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Magical_Devil_Alex/pseuds/Magical_Devil_Alex
Summary: Tim Drake, also known as Red Robin, is getting really tired of this universe he's been thrusted into. Unfortunately, they disagree.AKA, Tim Drake is my son and I want to give him some much deserved love.





	1. In Which Tim Drake Is Chased By the Mini Justice League (Because Dimension Traveling sucks, That's Why)

**Author's Note:**

> Hope you all enjoy this! Honestly, these chapters will probably be short and kind of disjoined, but oh well. I just wanted to write something with Tim and Marvel so here we are. If you have any ideas I would love to hear them!

Tim Drake, also known as Red Robin,  _hates_ dimension hopping. First it's getting hit with the  _holy shit everything hurts_ feeling, then it's trying to actually figure  _out_ where you are. It always goes downhill from there without a fail, like right now, how he was currently being chased by who he could only assume to be this world's heroes, heroes that were definitely  _not_ the Justice League or the Titans. Tim tried to be friendly, he  _really_ did, but he was admittedly kind of snappy after realizing that Ra's al Ghul somehow got his hands on an interdimensional travel device and zapped him here. And hey, if he called that flying robot dude a metal shit bucket, well he blamed sleep deprivation on that, along with dealing with a thousand year old immortal who wanted his children.

Too bad he was still being chased over the  _goddamned rooftops._    

Like seriously, the rooftops were supposed to be  _his_ playground, not this mini Justice League's. Speaking of which, he was going to have to do some research so he would know how to counter all of them,

Especially the dude who was chasing Red right now, the dude actually  _keeping up_ with the vigilante, and even  _gaining_ on him as he dashed from one roof to the next. The guy looked like someone barfed America all over him, and any other time he would have laughed and the ridiculous red white and blue outfit the man was sporting, but he couldn't when he was in danger of being caught any second. It didn't help that he also had a shield made out of this weird metal on his arm, and whenever he got close to Red he threw it.

Like right now, the vigilante could hear the cutting sound of the shield ripping through the air, right at Red. Acting on pure instinct alone, Red jumped over a ventilation unit, diving behind it just as the shield brushed the top of his cowl. Not having time to ponder how he was nearly decapitated by the equivalent of Propaganda Man, the vigilante slipped out a few smoke pellets from his gauntlets, throwing them in the man's path to give himself cover. He then ran left instead of straight, thinking that unless Propaganda Man was also secretly Super Jump Man that he wouldn't be able to jump 30 feet straight into the air to follow him.

Red whipped out his grappling hook, the gadget shooting into the air nearly silently, catching on his desired destination. It began pulling him up, and from behind him, Red could hear Propaganda Man call out, "Tony, he's going west!"

The vigilante cursed as he landed on the rooftop, his ankle giving off an aching pain. He injured it before he dimension hopped when he was fighting Ra's', thinking he could just pull through it, but it was proving to more than he could ignore. And to make things better, he realized that there were no building high or close enough for him to find refuge in, leaving him trapped on a rooftop as he heard the faint but familiar whirling of machinery come his way. He didn't know this city like he knew Gotham or even Bludhaven, meaning he basically trapped himself in an unfamiliar place surrounded by people he knew nothing about. Just  _fantastic._  

And then there was the whole thing with how his head was still slightly fuzzy from the dimension traveling, so he wasn't as sharp as he should be.  

Oh, and did he mention he noticed the Green Arrow rip off in a distant building, no undoubtedly blocking all potentially safe exits? Yeah, that  _really_ sucked as well. This entire  _situation_ sucked some major  _ass._

Fuck. When he got out of this mess, he was going to destroy one or two of Ra's' Pits, just to show him how  _uncool_ all of this is. That is, if he could even get back to his own damn _universe_.       

"Shit."

"I do believe  _shit_ is the right word," said a cocky sounding voice, an aftertone that was metallic and robotic mixing in with it. Red slowly turned around, making sure to keep the arrow dude in his peripherals as he faced the metal shit bucket man from before. His helmet was gone now, making the vigilante wonder if he even  _cared_  that there could be someone with a camera right now that could take his picture and post it everywhere.  _Breaking News: Hero is and idiot and exposes his secret identity to everyone, morons clap and rejoice!_

And  _seriously,_ that dude had a goatee _and_ and damn  _beard!_ Like, who even tried to pull that off anymore? (Green Arrow immediately pops into his mind, but Ollie looked  _damn_ good with a goatee, so he couldn't be counted.)

"You gave us a good run, kid," the metal man continued, raising his right hand, where Red could see a glowing circle in the center of his palm. "Now, you're going to come with us quietly, or we'll be forced to use less  _friendly_ methods."

The vigilante contemplated this, eyes darting from the metal man to the arrow man from behind the white outs of his cowl. It was moments like this he wished that he had his team with him, or at the very least Kon, who could hear his racing heartbeat and come to his side in seconds. It was a nice thought, but Red wasn't one to live in fantasies, and he knew that there was no Kon and no Titans to come to his rescue in this world. He was going to have to use his brain to get out of this. 

Red gradually raised his hands as if to show surrender, brushing the left one over one of the many compartments in the Red Robin suit, a small device sliding directly into his palm. It was a technology disruptor, something that he made a week ago and hasn't had the chance to use yet. It was supposed fry the code in whatever device he put it one, and hopefully send him the information on a seperate, secure server. If it worked, then metal man would be completely out of commision, leaving him only having to deal with arrow dude. That is, if the  _others_ didn't get here before then. Red would have to work fast.

The metal man walked forward with a smile on his face, saying, "now see? That wasn't so hard-" before the vigilante striked. Red pounced at him, using his shoulders as a launch pad and and vaulting over the metal man with ease. The technology disruptor instantly attached to the suit and activated just as an arrow came flying towards Red, the vigilante instantly whipping out his bo staff and slicing it out of the air in one one, fluid movement. He could hear a shout from the metal man, but didn't waste time to see if the device worked. Hitting yet another arrow off course, Red let more smoke pellets along with firecracker pellets out of his gauntlets, the roof now filled with smoke and random bursts of sparks. 

Without looking to see where he was heading to, Red threw himself off the side of the building, praying to every god he could think of that he would survive the fall. The ground very close very fast, an with reactions he's only gained from years of experience, the vigilante tucked his small body into a ball, rolling none so smoothly. A wave of shock ripped through every limb, almost making him gasp, bo still clenched tightly in his hands. His ankle was now  _screaming_ him, and before he could convince himself otherwise, Red plopped down beside a dumpster, hoping it hid him well enough that he could stay the night. Exhaustion was creeping on him, adrenaline rush fading and his cape making the otherwise cool night pleasant.

"When... was the last time... I slept?" he asked himself deliriously, pulling his cape tighter around him. The hum of the city around him was familiar, yet it wasn't at the same time. It made him long for Gotham, long for all of his friends and the slowly growing relationship from his family. 

In a few moments, Tim Drake promptly passed out in an alley, his Red Robin uniform clearly showing. Bruce would  _definitely_ not approve.

Alternate dimensions fucking  _sucked._              


	2. In Which Nick Fury is Furious (But Really, When Isn't He?)

When Nick Fury busted into the Avengers Tower, they all knew they were in for one  _giant_ shit storm. Steve Rogers flinched as the man stormed over to where Tony Stark was reviewing video footage of earlier that night, abruptly demanding, "what the  _Hell_ happened tonight?"

There was total silence in the Tower for many moments, Natasha briefly making eye contact with Steve before glancing over at Clint, who was very intensely cleaning his arrows. When no one promoted to answer (including Tony, surprisingly), Steve decided that they might as well just get this over with. "I seems that whoever came through the disturbance we were designated to watch got away," he said matter of factually, looking over at Tony, who had not once acknowledged Fury's existence in the time he walked in. All of his attention was on the screen, replaying and expanding certain frames and moments. 

"And  _how_ is it that this person was able to do so, when  _you_ were supposed to apprehend him?" Fury fumed. "Especially when sources from  _your_ reports said he was  _injured?"_

Steve didn't really have a response to that. It all happened so fast, one moment there was nothing on the roof he, Tony and Clint had been assigned to watch because of an unknown frequency that was suddenly concentrated in certain spots, and the next there was a man in front of them, only standing up because he was holding all of his weight on some sort of staff. Tony told the man that he had to come with them, and the second the caped figure saw the Iron Man suit he called him a metal shit bucket. It all went down hill from there.

"Well for one, this guy is  _definitely_ more powerful than he's letting on, I mean,  _look at this!"_ Tony jumped in, expanding the screen until it was easily seen even by Wanda, who was on the other side of the room. The video was from Steve's perspective, and it was showing the moments when he was chasing the caped man. Steve's never known a regular human that  _fast,_ and it was especially shown in the moment when he threw the shield, how smoothly and effortlessly the caped man dodged it. Tony then fast forwarded to after after his suit began to shut down for some unknown reason, how in less than half a second he took out that staff from before and hit Clint's arrows  _out of the air._ The only people Steve's seen to be able to _do_ that were  _gods._ And the caped man even did it  _again_ __less than a moment later.

"And don't even get me  _started_ on the genius that is _this_ _masterpiece."_ Tony held up a small, round device in between his thumb and index finger. "This thing was able to shut down my  _entire_ suit including  _JARVIS_ in less than 10 seconds. It fried all of my electronics to the point where that suit is now  _useless,"_ the billionaire exclaimed, sounding awfully happy for having his tech destroyed. "Whoever this is, I want in my tech department  _immediately,_ because something tells me that this guy has a  _lot_ more little gadgets like this up his sleeve."

Fury's eye visibly  _twitched_ in anger, his hands clenching behind his back. "Well, since it seems like you want the _honors_ of bringing this guy in, I'll make this an  _Avengers_ priority. I want this guy questioned and interrogated, because  _in case you forgot, Mr. Stark,_   ****we have _no_ idea where this man came from,  _what_ __he's capable of, or _what_ he's going to do now that he's here." And with that, Fury stormed out, just like he came, mumbling furiously (Ha) under his breath. A minute after he was gone, there was still silence in the Tower as the Avengers struggled to understand just  _what_ they got themselves into.

"So," Bruce began awkwardly, running his fingers through his hair as he studied the still playing video. "Anyone have a crazy or stupid name that we could call this guy?"             


	3. In Which Tim Shops and Does Research (Which is all Fun and Games Until You Have No Coffee)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey everyone! I just wanted to say I did NOT expect the amount of love that you all gave this fic, and I love it!

When Tim suddenly jerked awake from his place beside the dumpster, he didn't know where he was for several minutes. The sun shinned above his head, much brighter than he recalled Gotham ever being- and why the  _Hell_ was he in an alley, anyway? Surly someone would have found him by now, whether it be a police officer, a thug, or one of the Bats. None of it made  _any_ since, especially when he shifted his leg only for his ankle to cry in pain-

-and for the shit show that was Tim Drake's life to abruptly hit him square in the noggin. 

"Damn you, Ra's," Tim hissed into the empty alley, using his bo staff to get him standing again. He needed to get medical attention on his ankle as soon as he could, but for one of the few times in his life, Tim felt hesitant. He was still in a city he knew nothing about,  _in broad daylight_ to less, possibly filled with heroes that would  _love_ to get up in his business,  _and_ it was a miracle all on its own that he wasn't found immediately after jumping off the roof. He was sure that no matter  _what_ crazy things these civilians have seen, seeing Red Robin limping around would  _definitely_ get him unwanted attention, likely a few YouTube videos, hundreds of pictures, along with Propaganda Man, Metal Shit Bucket, Green Arrow Rip-Off, and the rest of the gang chasing after him again. 

So, Tim would have to do what he did best: sleuth.

Doing his best to keep his weight off of his ankle, Tim stripped out of the Red Robin suit, taking off his cowl, domino, gauntlets, cape, and gloves until he was left in the Kevlar silk bodysuit. He then carefully folded all of it together, skillfully hiding the weapons and anything that might look concerning to the outside viewer, taking out a pair of sunglasses (if for whatever reason his cowl and domino were gone or taken off) and his wallet (because late night burritos were the  _bomb.)_ He put on the sunglasses, ruffled up his slightly long hair so that it was poofy and sticking up everywhere (something he bet Dick would  _love_ to see). 

Satisfied for what he could do for now, seeing as he couldn't just take off  _all_ his clothes, Tim decided that now would be a  _great_ time to grab some civvies. Using the staff as support, he started hobbling the opposite direction of the dumpster (he could see a camera pointing outwards on the other side of the alley, had to avoid it). Soon enough, he came to the mouth of the alley, and with a smooth movement he slid himself into the massive crowd on the street.

And  _damn_ must this city be  _massive,_ maybe even bigger than  _Metropolis._ There were people  _everywhere,_ cars constantly honking, every noise blending together into one sound. Tim kept his head low, not looking anyone in the face as he stayed over to the side of the sidewalk. People tended to move around him once they say how he was walking, and probably because he smelled like sweat, blood, and dumpster. 

After walking for a bit (his foot throbbing the whole way), Tim came across a clothing store that he couldn't see the name of. Thinking it was probably the best he was going to get, he walked into it. 20 minutes later, with a bag of new clothes, an outfit on him, some deodorant, and various other miscellaneous supplies, Tim felt  _much_ better. He also got a backpack to put all of his things in, and the store even had proper crutches, meaning there was no more use for his bo. All and all, Tim was immensely grateful that Bruce's credit card worked across dimensions.

And now, Tim  _desperately_ needed coffee. Also food (that's important, his stomach reminded him with a growl). Surly this world must have  _something_ good about it, and with a little investigating (AKA, walking around like a newborn lamb as he attempted to figure out the crutches) he found a Starbucks. It wasn't really what Tim was hoping for, but hey, coffee was coffee, and beggars couldn't be choosers. So he went into that Starbucks, finding that it had one of those places where you could mess around on an iPad while you enjoyed your cup of joe.

"Score," he said to himself, placing in an order (straight black coffee with a double shot of espresso, along with one of those Italian sandwich things). 5 minutes later his name was called (Darren) and he grabbed a seat in the farthest corner by the window (because at heart, he's still a Bat, and he needs to be able to see everything). With some maneuvering he managed to sit down, taking a long drink of the scalding coffee. Tim sighed in relief, taking a deep breath before diving into the world of the iPad.

It wasn't the Batcomputer or any of his other resources from home, but it would have to do. For now, he found out his location (New York City, wowie) looked up some others (there's no Gotham, Metropolis, Central City, Star City, Coast City, Fawcett City, or any other place he can think of). Then, taking out a notebook he bought along with a pen, Tim began looking up the heroes this world had to offer. And oh  _boy,_ were there a  _lot._

Apparently some of the heroes here freely let out their secret identity (which Bruce would have a stroke about), and the ones that chased him last night were quickly identified. Propaganda Man was actually Captain America (go figures) a WWII super soldier named Steve Rogers that got frozen in the ice for a couple of decades. Metal Shit Bucket was Iron-Man, a billionaire playboy genius named Anthony Stark (sounds like someone he knows). And Green Arrow Rip-Off was a guy named Clint Barton, a S.H.I.E.L.D agent that was considered one of the best marksmen in the world. Tim quickly found out that they were all apart of a team called the Avengers, and immediately looked them all up too.

Falcon, AKA, Sam Wilson. Bucky Barnes, AKA, the Winter Soldier. Bruce Banner, AKA, The Hulk. Natasha Romanoff, AKA, Black Widow. Wanda Maximoff, AKA, Scarlet Witch. Thor, apparently an  _actual_ Norse god.

There were a few others here and there, but for the most part, that seemed to be the majority of these, 'Avengers.' They've saved the world a couple of times, but what  _really_ caught Tim's eye was that they basically worked for S.H.I.E.L.D, some sort of government agency that he couldn't find much about other than a few news reports about their involvement in certain events. 

Tim narrowed his eyes as the agency continued to come up with almost nothing, realizing that he would probably have to hack into their servers to learn anything significant. He smirked at the thought, wondering just how quickly he would get in. Bruce used the Pentagon as  _basic_ hacking 101, so this should be _fun._ Unfortunately, Tim would also need a much more advanced piece of technology before he tried that, and-

He suddenly stopped what he was doing, mid coffee sip. Swallowing the liquid quickly, Tim opened his bookbag, searching through it until a small black flash drive was in his hands, the one that was supposed to collect all the information gathered by the technology disruptor. "I am a  _genius,"_ he exclaims to himself quietly, giving a metal pat on the back for putting the gadget on the Iron-Man suit. He put the flash drive away, not wanting to use it here in case the Avengers were to find it somehow.

Next, Tim looked for more heroes and some villains, because when there's a few, there's  _hundreds._ In his searches he finds out about Spider-Man, Daredevil, the Fantastic Four, The Defenders, the X-Men, and a few others, all which resided in New York. He also finds out about their villains, like Magneto fighting the X-Men (all who seem to be this worlds equivalent of metahumans, called mutants instead), the Vulture, and Wilson Fisk, who was taken out by both Daredevil and a lawyer firm called Nelson and Murdock. Tim finds Daredevil particularly interesting, especially after watching him fight in afew videos. He was  _obviously_ trained by someone, with how flawlessly he fighted. He also found it assuming that for the longest time he was given the title, "The Devil of Hell's Kitchen." Tim didn't think this guy was  _actually_ the devil, but hey, he's seen and dealt with weirder.

Tim attempted to take another sip of his coffee as he watched a video Spider-Man stop a moving vehicle with his bare hands, only to find it empty. He grumbled unhappily to himself, standing up order another one after pausing the video. He was glad there wasn't anyone around him to scold him for his coffee habits, he was in another universe dammit, he deserved his coffee if he was going to have to deal with this shit.

Very unfortunately, the sandwich was left mostly uneated, sitting there unhappily as it wondered why Tim even bothered to buy it in the first place.                              


	4. In Which Tim is Stalked By Someone Older Than Him (So Really, Nothing New)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm having way too much fun writing this.

As much as Tim was aching to kick some bad guy ass, even he realized that going around in a city he barely knew with an injured ankle was  _not_ a good idea, especially since he had no one to back him up if he got into trouble. So for a little over a week (the Titan's would be  _so_ proud of him) Tim laid low, renting a crappy apartment for him to stay in and racking up as much information on the heroes and villains as he could, along with sorting through the immense and valuable information that was on the flashdrive. With Bruce's seemingly endless funds (hallelujah) he also bought a state of the art laptop, supplies to refill his gadgets, and many other things that he thought he would need (coffee being rather high on that list, though food was an afterthought). 

When he wasn't obsessively researching, Tim was repairing the Red Robin suit and tinkering with the gadgets, making sure they all still worked. They surprisingly all did, which considering he was sent through a rip through reality itself, was a small miracle all on its own. 

But Tim could only sit around and do nothing for so long. He could hear sirens outside his apartment, and every time he heard them he yearned to follow them to the crime, yearned to be out there and fight. But he just clenched his teeth together and did his best to ignore them, knowing that in the state was currently was in that he couldn't offer anything of value.

That's why when he woke up one morning (7 hours of sleep, something he hasn't done in a  _long_ time) and was able to walk on his foot with only the slightest pull of pain, Tim knew that tonight, he was going out. He wasn't going to do anything  _too_ extraneous, he told himself, not wanting to be injured so soon. He would use the time to explore New York, gain knowledge of the city and it's back alleys and everything else it had to offer. The most he would do would to be to stop petty crimes, he told himself. Nothing more, nothing less. 

So as darkness fell over the city that never slept, Tim clipped on his Red Robin suit, making sure all of the safety mechanisms were functioning. Gauntlets were clipped into place, the X of gadgets placed across his chest, belt clipped around his hips, cape around his shoulders, bo staff hidden away, and lastly, the cowl pulled over his face. Tim couldn't help but smirk to himself as he opened the one dingy window in the apartment, loving the view from how high up he was. He made sure to get a top floor apartment, one without any cameras or security nearby. It meant that it was a less friendly part of New York, a neighborhood on the outskirts of Hell's Kitchen, but it was perfect for him. 

Tim hopped onto the window ledge, balancing easily as he took in the cool night air, his cape blowing slightly behind him. In the cover of the now more shadowed world, Red Robin leaped into the air, letting himself fall for a moment before swiftly using a grappling hook to hook onto the building in front of him, landing with a graceful roll. He started running with the momentum, smiling into the open air as he jumped from rooftop to rooftop, sticking to the shadows of the buildings. There was significantly less of them compared to Gotham, but Red was a Bat, and that meant that even the smallest sliver of darkness was enough to hide in. 

He was gripped with a brief sense of longing at the thought, wishing he was back home instead of this universe. His relationship with the Bats, while by no means perfect, was steadily growing. Red hoped that perhaps they were looking for him somehow, since there was no real way for him to.

The first hours of his mock parol went smoothly. New York was  _huge,_ and he began making plans for the routes he would take, memorizing certain streets and buildings that would make a good run away point if necessary. It still pissed him off that he would have to potentially  _run_ from something, seeing as it was usually the  _criminals_ running from _him,_ but he would have to deal with it.

There was very little crime, and what there was Red quickly stopped with minimal effort. He didn't fight to his full ability, using the element of surprise more than anything to take out standard thugs and robbers. All and all, a good warm up after a week of not doing much.

But it was after one of these crimes he stopped when he noticed something was off. He felt it the second he was back on the rooftops, heading east towards Midtown, like something was prickling the back of his neck. There was only one thing he associated with that feeling.

Someone was stalking him. But they were doing stealthily, staying hidden from his line of sight as to not get caught, much like Ra's and his ninjas would. Red made sure his body language never gave away that he knew the stalker was there, going along like normal, silently wishing that this wouldn't become a regular thing. He's dealt with enough stalkers in his own universe, and the last thing he needed was another on in this one. 

Red scaled buildings, crossed streets, and even fought off a group selling drugs, but the feeling still stayed. He had an idea of who it  _could_ be, but it was only an educated guess. Then again, Red's educated guesses were usually right. 

The vigilante grappled onto what he assumed to be an abandoned building, looking over the New York skyline. His cape swirled around him as he sensed the stalker come closer, waiting for him to move on. Red gave a small smirk, saying clearly into the night, "Natasha Romanoff. If this was any other situation I think I would be honored, but unfortunately, I've dealt with enough stalkers in my life to be  _really_ sick of them."

For many moments there was nothing, but Red was pacient. No one likes it when they're called out.

Then, with the faintest whoosh of air that would make  _Batman_ proud, someone was on the roof with him. Red turned around, studying the Black Widow as she too stuck to the shadows. Of all the Avengers, she was one of the few  _human_ ones without any sort of powers, nothing but pure skill. But to Red, that made her the most powerful, because underestimation can be a  _wonderful_ tool when it came down to fighting. It's a tactic that he's used often, one that's worked more times then he could count.

"How long did you know?" Black Widow asks nonchalantly, even if Red could detect the faintest hint her being impressed. She was sizing him up, just like he was doing to her.

The vigilante shrugged. "Long enough. What do you want? Are you just here for the view or are you waiting for your buddies to get here?" Red's tone was light, but there was an edge to it that could be potentially deadly.

Black Widow tilted her head slightly to to side. "Just curious. Impressed with how easily you took out a few of my teammates."

Red snorted at the memory, remembering the look of pure shock on shit bucket's face when he got away. "Yeah, and that's when I was running on four hours of sleep after two and half days, an injured ankle, and wildly pissed at my usual stalker. Trust me, I don't usually run away." 

The vigilante somehow managed to stifle his laughter at the look on the assassins face, but just barely. Clearly she was  _not_ expecting to hear that, and Red hoped the Avengers would have a similar reaction. He had noticed the comm in her ear immediately after she landed on the roof, so someone  _was_ listening in on this, if not recording the entire thing. If so, Red wanted them to know that he was prepared to take them all down in a heartbeat if need be.

"Wildly pissed at your usual stalker?" Black Widow raised an eyebrow, recovering quickly from her small break. "Something tells me that has to deal with what you said earlier."

Red shrugged again, dying of laughter inside. He was about to say something he would probably grow to regret, but it was too funny to pass up on. "Oh, it's nothing much. Just a thousand year old immortal that can't die, has an empire filled with ninjas, continuously sends me gifts, and wants my children. You get used to it after a while."

The assassin just stared at him after that, her lips pressed tightly into a thin line as she struggled with what to say. Red didn't give her a chance to, instead stepping onto the ledge of the roof, giving a small salute. "Oh, and Tony Stark? JARVIS seems like a pretty cool A.I. It would be a shame if someone were to... hack him." And with that, Red Robin jumped off the roof, pressing a button on his gauntlet that would send out a signal to Black Widow's comm, sending a small and easily fixable virus to where it was connected. The real run would begin when the Avengers tried to spy on him via cameras, when the part of the virus would disrupt and mess with whatever technology was being used at the time. He couldn't  _wait_ for that.

"I'm a jerk, aren't I?" Red Robin says into the night, a smile not once moving from his lips. 

"Oh, they deserve it. What's universe hopping if I can't have a little fun?"           


	5. In Which the Avengers are Creeps (And Tony Nearly Has a Heart Attack)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm literally giggling to myself as I write this, looking like an idiot. Oh well.

In all honesty, I wasn't the first time the Avengers stalked someone. S.H.I.E.L.D has given them assignments much like this before, capturing a person of interest to find out who they were an whatnot. And really, Tony was  _excited_ to find this caped guy and see what his deal was. They've decided (or at least, Tony has) to call him Pebbles (because really the cowl almost looks like it's supposed to be mimicking a bird and the dude throws pebble looking things). Clint jumped right onto the name, but everyone else seemed to be a little hesitant still.

They sent out Nat to search for Pebbles (let's be honest, of all of them she would have the easiest time doing so), the rest of the Avengers hanging out back at the Tower to watch via a little hidden camera in her comm. For the first week, there was nothing that Nat could find of the guy, and she searched everywhere from Harlem all the way down to the Financial District. Pebbles simply was nowhere to be found, and after the 6th day, they were all really starting to get anxious.

"Are you sure he's even in  _New York_ anymore?" Bruce asked, taking a handful of popcorn that was in Sam's lap. "I mean, 6 days in plenty of time to get out of here and disappear. For all we know, we're on a wild goose chase."

But Tony refused to let up, knowing in his gut that Pebbles was still in New York somewhere, hiding out and waiting to peak his head out. 

After nine days, he would be proven right.

Around 10:30, when the only people watching the screen were Tony, Steve and Wanda, the sound sensors on Nat's comm suddenly picked up the sounds of people fighting. Swiftly and silently the assassin followed the noise from the rooftops, coming across an alley with multiple thugs in it, and a very familiar looking man dawned in a cape and cowl. 

"There he is!" Tony cheered, unable to stop the smile that stretched across his face as he jumped up, Steve and Sam walking in when they heard Tony's voice. They watched as Nat skillfully hid herself from sight, keeping her focus on Pebbles the entire time as he easily took out the thugs. It was like watching a choreographed dance; each move from the caped man landing perfectly and with relaxed ease. Once the last thug was on the ground, he smiled, using that grappling hook of his to latch onto the roof and run across it. Nat waited a heartbeat and then began to follow, keeping at a safe distance so that Pebbles was seen at all times.

"He was pulling his punches," Steve mumbled almost to himself, watching the caped man with intensity as he fluidly jumped from one roof to the next, secretly amazed with how smooth and natural he looked, running like he was born to be there. The man was so small in comparison to nearly all of them, yet he filled the entire world so  _utterly._

For the next hour, they all watched as Pebbles made his way through the city, only stopping one other crime that he found along his path. He then climbed onto a high building, looking over the edge at the skyline. The wind ruffled his cape, and Tony almost felt like fanboying at the dight, the desire to question this guy about  _everything_ he knew because it was  _so_ obvious to him that Pebbles was a genius, one that deserved to be recognized, S.H.I.E.L.D orders be damned.

"Natasha Romanoff. If this was any other situation I think I would be honored, but unfortunately, I've dealt with enough stalkers in my life to be  _really_ sick of them."

And then Sam was choking on his popcorn (because really, that man had an addiction like no other when it came to that stuff) Wanda went stiff with shock and Steve's eyes widened. 

"Did he just..." trailed off Wanda, staring at the screen where Pebbles hadn't even turned around yet. They were all stunned to silence as Nat landed on the opposite side of the roof as Pebbles, quiet as always. The caped man turned around then, studying Nat with an expression Tony couldn't decipher. 

"How long did you know?" Nat asks smoothly, no hint that she was phased by any of this. 

Pebbles shrugged, a hint of a smile just barely touching his lips. "Long enough. What do you want? Are you just here for the view or are you waiting for your buddies to get here?" he said with a hint of bitterness in his voice. His stance wasn't defensive, but Tony had no doubt it could change in a second if he felt threatened. 

Nat hummed, replying with, "just curious. Impressed with how easily you took out a few of my teammates." Sam mouth quirked into a smile, smirking at Steve while the super soldier refused to look at him. Tony found that he couldn't really be mad at Pebbles for making them look like fools, mainly because he was so freaking  _awesome._ It was like trying to be frustrated at a cute puppy: it just didn't last for very long.

Pebbles made a small snorting noise,  _definitely_ smiling now. "Yeah, and that's when I was running on four hours of sleep after two and half days, an injured ankle, and wildly pissed at my usual stalker. Trust me, I don't usually run away." 

" _Excuse me_ what the  _fuck,"_ demanded Tony, because okay, getting his ass handed to him was  _one_ thing, but when his opponent was the equivalent of a walking  _zombie?_ Well that's just fucking  _embarrassing._

"Language," Steve snapped without realizing, but no one was paying attention to him. Everyone was watching the screen, wondering what was happening next. It was almost like an episode of one of those Korean soap operas or something.

"Wildly pissed at your usual stalker? Something tells me that has to deal with what you said earlier."

Pebbles shrugged again, smirking as if he was telling an inside joke. "Oh, it's nothing much. Just a thousand year old immortal that can't die, has an empire filled with ninjas, continuously sends me gifts, and wants my children. You get used to it after a while."

Wanda spit out the water she had been drinking, coughing as Sam busted out laughing and Steve just opened and closed his mouth. "How old even  _is_ this guy?" Steve demanded as Pebbles stepped onto the roof , looking very pleased with himself in the process.

"Apparently old enough to have stalker who wants his children," Wanda choked out, patting her chest to calm the coughs.

Pebbles gave a salute, tilting his head to the side as he said one final piece. "Oh, and Tony Stark? JARVIS seems like a pretty cool A.I. It would be a shame if someone were to... hack him," and jumped off the roof. Less than a moment after, there were alarms going off in the Tower.

_"What the Hell did Pebbles do to my beautiful JARVIS?!"_

****Sorry, Tony. That's what you get when you decided to stalk Red Robin.


	6. In Which Daredevil Isn't Actually a Devil (And Other Dumpster Diving Stories)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here comes my boi, Matt.

Honestly, this whole night was complete shit  _before_ Tim got thrown into a dumpster. 

It was just one of those rare and unexpecting nights where everything went wrong without any reason whatsoever. Sure, as a vigilante, Red Robin has seen and done his fair share of fuck ups, but this was a whole new level, one that he wasn't even aware that he could  _reach._

First his suit  _somehow_ ripped, a suit that was  _designed_ with the purpose to  _not_ rip, had a giant gash, and at his  _crotch_ of all places. Real funny. He spent a good two hours before he went out to try and repair the damn thing, but in all honesty, Tim was  _not_ good with sewing, and recently Alfred's been taking care of his suit for him. By the end of the two hours, it was mostly fixed, but still quite horrid looking.

Then when he  _did_ manage to finally go out on patrol, he tripped on his cape jumping out of the window, nearly causing him to face plant straight into the concrete below. It was a humiliating thought that no, it wouldn't be a criminal, a disease from his lack of spleen, old age, or even  _Ra's,_ that would kill him, but a stupid mistake that caused him to kill himself. In a different universe no less.

After that was his grappling hook, the one gadget he  _would_ trust with his life, refused to work. How, Red would  _really_ like to know, seeing as just an hour ago he  _checked_ it and the damn thing seemed  _fine._ Like, what the Hell. Now he could take short cuts over taller buildings constantly had to run around, and if he  _did_ need to get on top of one of those taller buildings, he had to  _climb_ it. Needless to say, Red was getting  _really_ annoyed by now.

But the icing on the cake was when he caught wind of a mugging happening on one of the alleyways in Hell's Kitchen, which he entered not two blocks ago. Red leaped in to interfere, thinking that this would be a run in the mill knock out and police call, but it turned out to be  _far_ from the case. These seemingly random thugs had  _extremely_ advanced weapons, weapons that looked  _strangely_ familiar but couldn't remember  _why._ Whatever they were, they shot lasers and hurt like a  _bitch,_ and the thugs were able to incapacitate him in less than five minutes. If Hood or Robin were to see him now, they would laugh in his face while Batman just looked on in disappointment. He didn't have time to think of Nightwing, Spoiler, or Black Bat's reaction before he was promptly thrown into a dumpster, probably to bleed out and die.

Red laid there was who knows how long, trying to think through the pain, trying to get his limbs to obey his commands. But the lasers seemed to have some sort of numbing agent in them, making his body unusable. Usually the vigilante was resistant to poisons like this, but he could tell there was not another poison like this anywhere else on Earth.

After what felt like ages (which was more than likely just a few minutes) a figure appeared over him in the darkness and dreadful smell of the dumpster. Red could faintly see the outline of the figure, noticing two horn like appendages on their head, along with a red tinge of their costume. 

Huh. So this must be Daredevil, he thought, barely able to track the other vigilante as he moved. If he really _was_ the devil, then maybe he was here to watch as Red died, pass judgement or some shit. He wanted to make a quip or something, so at least he would go out like a  _total_ bitch, but his muscles and vocal cords refused to function. Just his luck.

But Daredevil didn't just stand there like Red expected, no, the dude actually got  _into_ the dumpster with him (leaving the vigilante in the middle of some very  _unpleasant_ memories) and picked Red up into his arms, like some damn damsel in distress or something. It would've been embarrassing if he wasn't currently dying, and he was getting the feeling that Daredevil wasn't here to watch him die, especially when he jumped out of the dumpster and started going in a direction that Red couldn't follow. 

Another eternity later, Red found himself in some room that he's never seen before, and there was someone else in there besides just Daredevil. The vigilante was placed on something relatively soft, and a moment later someone was touching his wrists, then attempting to take off his suit.

That immediately got Red into action, even as his muscles protested the movement. He thrashed in the hold, because no way in  _Hell_ was he going to let total strangers see who he was, even if the suit already had built in protections. He was being held down by a different person now, Daredevil if his eyes were correct. The other vigilante was obviously stronger than him in this state, and in fact, Red was almost sure Daredevil was stronger than him all around. He was never the physically strongest of his family, or even the best fighter, but he did have something better: his mind. But currently, his mind was a jumble of sounds and sensations that he couldn't make out. He was helpless against their holds.

A sound of frustration left his mouth without permission as he went limp, all if his strength leaving him abruptly. "No," he whined as the other person began taking off his suit, Daredevil's deep voice saying something to them. Somehow the person deactivated all of his defenses without a problem, even if they were slow and careful about each move.  _"No,"_ Red protested again, trying to move away from the hands that were now under his suit, touching him, bringing back too many memories for his liking. 

Daredevil was saying something again, to him or to the other person, he couldn't tell, but Red thought it was supposed to be soothing. Whatever it was, he didn't have time to think about it before he suddenly passed out into darkness.

 

 

Tim awoke with a start, gasping as he sat up roughly, immediately feeling a flare of pain at his side. Without thinking he swiftly observed the room around him, noticing the woman next to him and the man in a red suit a few feet away. He was laying on a bed. There was bandages wrapped tightly around his middle. His head was aching right behind his eyes. 

The cowl was gone.

Without hesitating Tim launched himself out of the bed, ignoring his obvious injuries- and instantly collapsed onto the floor in pain. 

"Holy shit, how is he even  _awake?"_ the woman was saying in shock, running to him as he groaned. Daredevil was right in front of him now, kneeling down to be on his level, which Tim instantly disliked. He hated it when people tried to make themselves less intimidating by trying to look smaller, like he was some child that needed to be comforted. It's something that Bruce used to do a lot when he first became Robin, but he quickly found out how even as a child Tim wasn't good at being comforted like that. Instead he took it more as a challenge, determined to show that even as small as he was that he could still defend himself and his family.

Tim growled at who could only assume to be Daredevil, taking in his dark hair and eyes that didn't quite look at him, noticing the faint film of grey that covered them. The pieces connected in his brain the moment the woman was beside him, a hand on her hand on his back.

Daredevil was Matthew Murdock, one of the lawyers that took down Wilson Fisk.

Matthew Murdock, a blind Catholic lawyer, was a vigilante that beat up criminals in a devil costume.

It that wasn't irony, Time had no idea what  _was._  

"Take it easy," the woman soothed, helping Tim stand up. She almost reminded him of Alfred, accept Alfred wasn't here and he was in a strange place surrounded by people he wasn't sure if he could trust.

"Why am I here?" Tim demanded, trying (and failing) to stand on his own. Daredevil (would it be okay to just call the dude Matt or something?) raised an eyebrow at that, head twitching to the side in an odd fashion. 

"I do believe the correct term for when someone saves your life is  _thank-you,_ but perhaps I was mistaken," Murdock says dryly, staring at Tim with his unseeing eyes. 

"And  _I_ believed that the code between vigilante's that want to mind their own damn business was to  _not_ be a dick and take off their mask when they're at their most vulnerable, but hey," Tim shrugged, glaring at the man. "I  _guess I was wrong."_

The woman helped him sit down on the bed, commenting, "it was the only way I was going to fix up those injuries of yours. By the way, your process to take off that damn thing? A freaking  _nightmare._ According to this guy over here," she gestured to the man with her head, "if I didn't do it in a certain order then gas would have knocked me out. Or I would have been shocked with electricity. Or a mini explosion would have gone off. Like seriously, what the  _Hell_ is your suit made out of?" 

The woman stood up, grabbing a glass of water and handing it to Tim. Tim contemplated it for a few seconds, wondering how to answer, and if he should drink the water. "I designed it," was all he replied with before gulping down the water, sighing gratefully. 

The woman pursed her lips together but didn't push it, sighing instead. "I'm Claire, by the way, Claire Temple. I don't really care what your name is, if you want to tell me at all. All you need to know is that for the next couple of days, you're staying here so I can make sure you don't throw yourself off a building and die immediately after I saved you." And with that, she left the room, leaving Tim alone with Daredevil. Matthew Murdock. Whatever.

Tim studied Murdock for a minute, thinking that for a guy that people thought was the literal devil walking on Earth, he didn't seem that intimidating, even if he  _wasn't_ blind.

"So," Tim started slowly, feeling the air in the room thicken. "I guess you aren't  _actually_ the Devil, are you?"      


	7. In Which Tim Makes a Friend (And Claire Somehow Manages to Keep Him From Dying)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> You know, when I started this fic, I told myself there wouldn't be much of a plot, just Tim randomly meeting Marvel characters that last just one chapter (accept the Avengers.)
> 
> Well, lets just say FUCK that anymore.

Tim stays at Claire's place a  _lot_ longer than he intended on staying. 

I mean sure, the woman said that she was going to make sure he doesn't kill himself right after she saved him, but  _damn_ is she persistent. He expected to stay maybe two or so days and bail during the night while she and Murdock were asleep, but he quickly found out that while Murdock was blind (like, 100% not even a faking it  _blind)_ he also had super senses that would put Clark's to shame. The guy knew when he was lying based on his heartbeat, could feel his body heat from two rooms away, taste his sweat, smell the infection in his blood, and even feel the movement of muscle that told him where long passed injuries used to be. It was the reason he was able to tell Claire how to take off his suit without any of his defense systems kicking in; the man could tell where the pressure points were and how to avoid them. It was creepy, at least to Tim it was, and there wasn't a damn thing he could do about it. It didn't matter that he was able to sneak up on  _Batman,_ Murdock just needed to know that he his breathing had picked up in order to stop him from leaving. 

"It's like I have my own guardian devil or something," Tim had joked bitterly the first time Murdock caught him trying to go leave, which made the man's lips quirk up into a brief grin.

"You need time to heal," Murdock replied, his voice oddly gentle for whatever reason. Tim had glared at the man, still not liking how he seemed to treat Tim like glass, like he was afraid that one word could shatter him. He knew nothing about Tim, just how hard he was able to push himself without snapping. These injuries, they were nothing, not even a  _scratch_ compared to what he's had in the past, and the scars on his body proved just that.

"Like you haven't done the same, Devil," Tim had snapped without thinking, a flare of anger going through him. Murdock's eyebrows had grown together, tilting his head to the side like he always does when he's listening for something. Tim hated it.

"You can call me Matt, you know-"

"I know your name, Matthew Murdock. Business partner to Franklin Nelson, employer of Karen Paige, apart of the law firm that took down Wilson Fisk. When you were nine you ran in front of a truck filled with chemicals to push someone out of the way, which blinded you, and I'm guessing also gave you those powers of yours. Your dad was Jack Murdock, a boxer, and when you were eleven he was killed."

"You did your research," Murdock had said blankly. 

Tim shrugged, turning around to go back to the bed that had been offered to him. "It's what I do best."

Murdock hadn't followed him, but Tim was positive the man knew he didn't sleep the rest of the night.

The next day, Claire started the morning by redressing Tim's wounds, like she always did. The woman was skillful and thorough when it came to this, a nurse if he remembered correctly. There was usually silence between them as she did this, but today, she broke that pattern.

"Do you mind if I ask you a question?" she asked as she took out a roll of gauze, preparing it to wrap around Tim's chest. Tim simply shrugged and said sure, wondering where she was going with this.

"I noticed you have a lot of scars," Claire started as she began wrapped Tim's wound. "Matt does too, and well, lets just say many of them would have killed him hadn't I been there to stop the bleeding." She taped the gauze tightly, making sure it was secure. "And I know it's probably not any of my business but... I was wondering where you got  _that_ one," she gestured to his neck. "Not very many people would survive something like that."

Tim unconsciously put his hand up to his bare neck, feeling the thick scar that covered the length of his jugular from ear to ear. It was the first of many Jason had put on him, most of them out of pure anger for him, for being Jason's 'Replacement,' as he always put it. He and Jason were on much better terms now, had been for a while... but every now and then Tim would find himself staring at that scar, wondering what would have happened if the collar on the Robin suit had been a little bit thinner, if Jason had pushed a little bit harder. 

"I... Let's just say I got this from someone who was in a lot of pain and too much anger to keep contained. I... was the easiest target to take it out on." 

Claire didn't reply to that, but she did purse her lips together, as if thinking about something. She didn't ask anything else the rest of the time she spent cleaning and dressing his wounds.

The woman left shortly after that, because as it turned out she  _is_ a nurse, and he shift would start in about half an hour, meaning that Murdock would be his only company for a while, even if he was a lawyer with his own firm. Because apparently lawyers can simply decide that they  _don't_ want to work today. 

Around three hours after Claire left and Tim had drank three cups of coffee, Murdock began asking his own questions.

"Is there something I can call you?" the man questioned as he grabbed a bottle of water from the fridge. It still amazed Tim how effortlessly he moved, as if he could still see everything around him, but he's seen the cane and glasses for when he has to play the part. It was all very interesting to Tim. "I mean, if you don't want me to know your name, that it. Maybe what you go by when you're in that." He pointed at the Red Robin costume. "It's rather odd to keep thinking of you as, 'that guy on Claire's bed.'"

After a moment of consideration, Tim replied with, "Red is fine. It's what a lot of people call me anyway." That made Murdock's lips quirk up in that half, barely there smile, as if the name amused him somehow. 

"Okay then, Red. Are you from New York?"

Now they were already treading in dangerous territory. Especially since Murdock is going to be able to know if he's lying or not (which was still creepy as Hell, no matter what you say about it) which makes lying just a little bit harder. Okay, a  _lot_ a bit harder. Perhaps pretty much impossible.

But if he played his card right, maybe not.

"If you're asking if I'm from the state, then yes, but if you're asking if I'm from the city, then no," Tim stated, hoping Murdock would take it and move on. He really didn't want to be forced to say that he was from a place that didn't even exist in this world, seeing how easy it would be to look up the name to find no results, like he did weeks before.

Fortunately, that answer seemed to satisfy Murdock enough. "How about your age? From what I can tell, you're rather young, but it never hurts to ask."

Shit. Well, that was something Tim couldn't really answer even if he wanted to. He shifted back and forth on the chair he was currently sitting in, wondering if then would be an appropriate time to take his things and run. He didn't think Murdock would actually  _hurt_ him, but either way he was in no position to fight without getting his ass handed to him. 

Well, they always say honesty is the best policy.

"I don't know," Tim finally answered, noticing the small twitch in Murdock's eyes when he heard it. "Technically I think my birthday was about a week or so ago, but I'm not entirely... sure about it. I've been busy lately, haven't exactly kept up with the time," he shrugged, once again hoping the topic would change. Time worked a little bit... differently in this world. When he was in his own world, April had just started, but here, it was nearly November. So it reality, he didn't know when his birthday was or if it even counted. For all he knew, in his world  _years_ had passed while only a few weeks had gone here.

It wasn't something he liked to think about.

Like before, Murdock let the the answer go, even if it was rather cryptic in nature. "Who trained you? You've obviously had some sort of training, really intense training at that." 

Tim considered the question, forming the best answer in his mind. "By someone that didn't want me in the beginning. I... I basically forced their hand in a way. But I don't regret it, and I  _think_ they don't regret it either. I don't know." He was talking too much now, almost rambling at this point. "What about you? I've seen the videos, your fighting style is so varied and dynamic that you must have been taught by  _someone."_

Murdock ran a hand through his hair, a bitter grin forming on his face. "A man with a similar situation taught me how to fight and control my... abilities. He was a manic son of a bitch that tried to recruit me into this sort of cult that he was apart of."

Huh. That sounded  _much_ worse than what Bruce did, thought there were many days Tim thought being in the hero business _was_ like being apart of a cult. 

There wasn't any conversation after that, but the silence wasn't uncomfortable like Time expected it to be. Murdock was surprisingly good company; he never pushed Tim to answer anything (like Damian would), didn't try and comfort him with hugs (like Dick would), didn't make any sarcastic remarks (Like Jason), and didn't just stand there broading, either (like he knew Bruce would  _definitely_ do). It was... nice, all things considered. Claire showed up a few hours later, exhausted from her shift, and they ordered Chinese take out for the night. 

It became one of the best nights that Tim's had in a long while.

It became a routine after that, how their days would go. Claire would redress his wounds before she went to the hospital, always asking about one scar he had, nothing more, nothing less. ("Where did that one on your shoulder come from? It looks like someone tried to stab you with a knife or something." "That's because my little brother was trying to kill me.") ("That bullet scar looks rather nasty compared to the other ones." "Remember the one I told you that gave me the one on my neck? Lets just say that wasn't the only time he tried to take me out.") ("You have a giant mark over your side. Who was trying to kill you then?" "Well, you see, that's where my spleen used to be. A guy that's basically the equivalent of 'senpai, love me' gave me that. Believe me when I say you don't want to know more.") ("Why do so many people want to kill you?" "Apparently I piss a  _lot_ of people off.")

After that, she would leave, leaving him with Murdock the rest of the day. Sometimes he would ask his own questions, sometimes they would make up weird games with one another in attempts to see how far they could push their limits. Like the 'can you get this object in the corner?' game that the man quickly vetoed after only two rounds, saying that Tim shouldn't be doing this incase he harms himself. (Tim secretly thinks that it's because he was able to climb everything and anything in the apartment like a monkey, and well, Dick would be proud.)

His injuries healed more and more each day, and soon, Claire stopped putting bandages on certain parts of his wounds. But even then, when Tim knew he could easily take care of himself and leave, he stayed. For what reason he still didn't know, but perhaps it was the fact that he had grown used to having people around him. Despite the fact that he liked and very much needed his own alone time, the Titans, his weird solidifying relationship with his family, they were there so much that he didn't realize it until he was all alone. 

Gods, he missed them all. 

He needed to find a way to get back home, somehow. Yet, as he sat on Claire's couch with Matt telling him stories about when he was in college with Nelson, laughing so hard he couldn't breathe, he thought that maybe another day wouldn't hurt.            


	8. In Which Ra's is a Dick (Nice to Know that Even Across Dimensions, Nothing Has Changed)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry it's been a while!

As much as he found himself enjoying Matt and Claire's company, Tim was getting anxious to be on his own again and patrol. Thankfully, Claire finally agreed that he was well enough to do this, even if it took nearly a week to convince her (it didn't help that Murdock had the cutest damn puppy eyes he's ever seen- like seriously how does a man who can't even see  _do that-?)_ and so now here he was, putting on the now clean and stitched up Red Robin uniform (thank you Claire). It felt really nice to put on the familiar weight, like he was slipping into his second skin.

"If you're ever in Hell's Kitchen, just give a call and I'll probably hear you," Murdock told him, a tinge of joking in his voice, even if everything else was anything but joking. 

"Thanks you," Tim replied sincerely. "For everything you and Claire have done for me... and sorry about me being a jerk those first few days. It's been a while since I've had anyone to watch my back."

Murdock shrugged. "I don't blame you all that much. I probably would've done the same thing if I knew that complete strangers took off my mask without my permission."

Tim nodded, a question burning in the back of his mind. Staying in someone's home and doing nothing gave you a lot of time to think, and well, he's been thinking a lot about the weapons those thugs attacked him with. He still thought they looked achingly familiar, but he couldn't put his finger on  _why_ they were familiar. They just simply were, like he's always known about them, which was literally impossible. He considered asking Murdock about them, asking if he's ever come across them before, but he somehow knew that his new found friend wouldn't be much help here.

But still, some information was better than no information.

"Say, those weapons that those thugs beat me up with, have you ever encountered them before?" Tim asked cautiously. Murdock tilted his head to the side, either thinking or listening to something. It still gave Tim the creeps, knowing that this man could watch him without ever seeing him.

"Once before, but it was several weeks ago. I wasn't close enough to really get a good reading on any of them, but... they were the most  _bizarre_ thing I've ever smelled in my life, like some sort of metal but  _not_ at the same time. I don't know," Murdock shrugged again, and something began to click in Tim's mind. He suddenly had a  _very good_ idea of what was going on, and if he was correct, then this world was in for a storm of ass. 

Tim pulled the cowl over his head, turning to the widow that would lead him out of Claire's apartment. "Thanks again. I'll call you if I ever need help," which honestly, Tim thought he might. He didn't do it often unless he was with the Titan's, but he could see himself teaming up with Daredevil from time to time of need be. He could nearly  _feel_ the smile Murdock gave him as Red opened the widow, and smiled himself, jumping out the window and letting the night air speed past him.

If he listened hard enough, the vigilante could hear the faint call of, "good luck, Red."

 

 

Ra's al Ghul is a fucking  _dick._

Yes, in theory Red knows this already, but the reality was much starker than the fact. He should have realized that Ra's not only still had the dimensional travel device but also was still using it, but he's been in this world for over two months at this point and not once has he come across anything Ra's like. That is, until he was beat the crap out of by supernatural weapons that no ordinary thug should have.

Unless of course, it was supplied by the fucker himself, as Red found out a few minutes ago. 

He  _should_ have remembered they were the same weapons from when he fought Ra's, but in all honesty, being teleported to a different dimension and then immediately having to run for his life sort of dragged his thoughts away from any other details. He should have realized that there was no way his enemy would ever stop, even if they were in an entirely different universe.

He should have done and realized a lot of things, but he didn't. So now he's here, nearly beat to shit for the second time in two weeks. Thankfully, this time he could still  _move_ but that didn't make the bruises on his ribs and cuts on his arms hurt any less.

Red wiped the blood from his mouth, refusing to let his gaze go anywhere other than Ra's al Ghul as he did his best to not lean too much weight on his bo staff. The immortal was standing just as smugly as always, a gleaming smirk dancing on his face and a sharp sword held casually in one hand. The very sight was making Red's blood boil, especially since not a couple months ago  _he_ was the one looking at Ra's like that, the one that defeated the other at his own game.

My, have the turns tabled.

He almost laughed out loud at his own joke, but Red had better self restraint than that. 

"So," Red began, keeping his voice as steady as he could. "I guess this isn't a family reunion."

Ra's lifted one eyebrow, his expression turning assumed, like a particularly fat cat that was toying with its food. "Just as sarcastic as ever, Detective. It's nice to know that time in a different world hasn't changed that."

Red snorted, grip tightening on his staff. "Geez, I wonder whose fault  _that_ would be?"

The immortal didn't reply, but the look in his eye was all Red needed. The vigilante was stalling for time, he knew that, but he needed all the seconds he could get to come up with a half decent plan. He didn't know what Ra's was planning yet, but there was next to no way Red could fight himself out of this situation, especially not in the state he was in. On a good day he could got toe to toe with the immortal and hold his ground, but the fact was that Red still wasn't the best fighter out there, and going up against someone who not only knew many of his tricks but had thousands of years to perfect his own was a solid check in the  _Fight's Red Robin Will Not Win_ column. 

Oh well. He'll just find another way. 

Red already knew that the warehouses surrounding him were all abandoned, though now he was starting to suspect that they were safe houses for Ra's like the one he had been investigating, the one with the faded lettering that faintly read:  _Mike n' Joe's Auto Store._ If he could just create a distraction, something big enough for him to get away...

But the vigilante didn't have time to think anything else though, because at that exact moment a lithe figure hurled through the air, and before Ra's al Ghul could blink it was on him, sending the immortal flying back into a dumpster. The irony was fabulous in its own way.

"Holy crap," the figure exclaimed, definitely a male if Red had to guess, and a young one at that. "I  _seriously_ misjudged that swing." The figure turned around, and Red let out a long sigh, wondering what gods in this world decided to they wanted his life to be miserable.  

Because standing right in front of him in all of his spandexed glory, was none other than Spider-Man.     


	9. In Which Spider-Man Is Permanently Confused (Tony Was Definitely Going to Kill Him)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here comes my son, Peter.

In hindsight, Peter Parker thought that maybe it was a good idea to call the Avengers whenever he ran into trouble that was more than the usual minion thug or villain of the week. Sure, he didn't  _know_ that it begin with, but he definitely had enough evidence to know that nothing he was seeing was normal. 

His night started out normal enough, swinging gleefully from building to building, webbing up some muggers who were trying to intimidate this older lady, and a helping out with a car chase that barely took 5 minutes. All in all, a good night to be in New York. 

It only started to get weird when he swung by the old warehouse graveyard as the locals called it, three square blocks of New York that was filled with nothing but abandoned warehouses that haven't had a function since the early 70's. It was a well known crime hot spot that most tended to stay away from, including Peter, but he was using it as a short cut to answer a call about a robbery. As he swung by, he could feel his Spidey Sense flare up in warning. At this, the teenager stopped to crouch on one of the ancient build boards that seriously questioned the structural integrity of, staying as still as possible as he listened in the oddly quiet night. New York was never quiet, but these three square blocks seemed to disagree.

Less than a minute later, he felt the warning again, this time hearing a faint clinking sound coming from his right. His eyes immediately snapped towards a warehouse half a block away, almost twice as tall as anything else around it. His senses just barely caught the smell of metal hanging in the air, one Peter very much recognized as blood.

Peter sprang off the build board (hearing some  _very_ painful creaking sounds that made him cringe) and swung to the warehouse, finding a perch on the roof where he could see in a 360. Here, the sounds and smells of fighting were much stronger, and in the courtyard between the large warehouse and the smaller ones around it was two people. One was clearly an older man, grey streaking the sides of his otherwise dark hair, skin dark enough to be nearly brown, suggesting a Middle Eastern heritage. In his hand was a wickedly sharp sword that gleamed, matching the teasing smirk on his face as he stared down his opponent. 

The other figure was very much in bad shape, only held up by some sort of staff that was clenched in their (his?) hands. A black cowl covered their face, connected to a long cape that brushed the tops of his ankles. Their torso was bright red, an X made by gold gadgets on their chest, pants and thick gloves as dark as the cape. All and all, the appearance looked vaguely familiar to Peter, but he couldn't remember why. The Spidey Sense made it hard to focus on anything else besides the danger.

First things first: he should probably take out Mr. Scary Sword before he does anything to Staff Dude. "Easy enough Pete, you've done this before," the teen said to himself to calm the nerves that mostly stayed silent anymore. He connected one strand of webbing to the roof opposite of him, and with a fluid jump, swung through the air and directly at the older man. Mr. Scary Sword didn't even have time to say anything before Peter impacted with his chest, sending him flying back into a dumpster. 

He did  _not_ mean to put that much force into it.

"Holy crap," he squeaked, face flushing red under the mask. "I  _seriously_ misjudged that swing." He turned to face the other person, hearing a long, defeated sigh come from their mouth.

"Of fucking course," the person says with an almost bored tone, most likely a guy from the sound of it. "Why am I not surprised."

 

 

Spider-Man tilts his head to the side, and Red swears he can see the vigilante's eyes narrow and widen as if he were considering his words. The hero is a lot smaller than he expected, his muscles clearly defined by the spandex. He almost reminded Red of himself, but that wasn't the point here. The point was that Spider-Man somehow found him with Ra's al Ghul, and that Spider-Man had a connection to the Avengers that Red did  _not_ want falling back on him. From what he knew, the hero was more like an honorary member, but that just made it more likely for him to tell his buddies about who he saw while swinging around at night.

God this was getting way to complicated for him to keep up. Why the Hell did New York have to have so many damn  _heroes?_ At least back home it was more spread out. Everything would be  _much_ easier if they were just spread out.

"Uh, hi?" questioned Spider-Man, giving a small wave. "You alright? Well you're probably not given that you're bleeding a lot and you were being beat up a few seconds ago... ah..."

Red sighed again, running a gloved hand over his cowl in a sad mimic of his hair. The hero clearly didn't have a voice modifier, making it rather simple to figure out that Spider-Man was young enough to still be in high school, maybe sixteen or seventeen at most. Sightings of the hero have been around for nearly two years, meaning he started this whole spider thing when he was about 15. He was still a baby to this whole thing, awkwardly trying to do his best during the weirdest time of his life. It was so familiar it almost hurt.

"Yeah, I noticed. The fucker you just put in the dumpster deserved it by the way, though I still wished you kicked him harder. And in the head. That would probably get him to leave me the Hell alone." Red was rambling at this point, but hey, what else was sleep deprivation and 3 pots of coffee supposed to fix? The vigilante had the strong desire to collapse in his apartment and sleep for 15 hours after the past four days caught up to him.

Spider-Man glanced back at the dumpster, rubbing the back of his head like he was looking at an equation and wondering what variable he was missing. Red almost felt empathy for the Spider, he himself not sure what was going on half of the time. You just have to learn to accept it. 

Suddenly, Spider-Man's head whipped back to Red, his mask eyes  _wide?_ (was that even  _possible?)_ and exclaimed, "You're Pebbles, aren't you!?"

Red stared at the hero, part of him laughing at the name while the other half sighed. "What the fuck. Just. Why. Who's shit decided to call me  _Pebbles?"_ the vigilante demanded, already hitting his limit of  _Things Red Robin Can Hear Today Before He Looses It._

Spider-Man fiddled his hands together, tilting his head again. "That's uh- that's what Mr. Stark called you when he asked me to help him with a virus- a virus you planted into JARVIS? He said he was calling you Pebbles because he didn't have anything else to, but I'm pretty sure no one else does. He also mentioned something about you giving Mr. Rogers a chase or something, I don't know I was half asleep at the time," the hero rambled on, once again reminding Red much of himself. Because why the hell not.

"Well tell your  _Mr. Stark_ that the virus will only kick in if you keep trying to look for me. Also, my name isn't  _fucking_ Pebbles. I can't believe he somehow made a nickname that's worse than N's and Hood, but he did, the bitch. Seriously getting tired of this bullshit." Red stumbled passed Spider-Man and towards the dumpster where Ra's landed, thinking it would be nice to take the villain out like the trash he is. He's sure he's got some reinforced restraints just for the this moment-

-and they would be very useful, had Ra's al Ghul been in the fucking dumpster.

Red stared into it for a good minute, his brain understanding but refusing to react. Spider-Man's eyes burned into the back of his skull, as if sensing his lack of reaction. "Are you... okay, dude?"

The vigilante slowly turned around. "He's gone."

"He's gone?"

"He's gone."

Red had no idea how Spider-Man managed to make his mask looked  _confused,_ but he did. "But that's impossible! I would have heard him, my senses would have picked him up, something," the guy almost sounded like a kicked puppy, making Red snort at the thought.

"Yeah, well, you've never met the dick that is Ra's al Ghul. Trust me when I say he's bad news and probably defies every law of physics at least once a week. It's quite annoying, actually."

While Spider-Man continued to stand there and mope, Red took out his grappling gun, knowing that he wouldn't be making any more progress tonight. Might as well and go home right? Or do research, but that's basically the same thing at this point, right?

"Don't follow me," is all the vigilante says before he disappears into the shadows, leaving behind a very confused hero.

Spider-Man stares at the place where the vigilante vanished, wondering if his Spidey Sense wasn't working.

"Mr. Stark is going to  _kill_ me."       


	10. In Which a Wild Deadpool Appears (Body Parts Not Included)

It was all starting to feel like Tim was in his own universe again, the way things were going. Ra's al Ghul was doing his evil overlord thing, and Red Robin was trying to stop him in whatever way he could. But this time, he didn't have the support or supplies of the Bat's or Titain's at his side, and while Bruce's never ending credit card was useful, it didn't solve everything. The last thing he needed was for one of his less than reliable neighbors to ask him about everything he's buying, especially since they live in a poorer section of New York. That would be a hassle to deal with.

So, he was on his own in a giant city that he was still learning and constantly trying to dodge the huge superhero community that resided there, all while doing his damndest to stop Ra's before he did something irreversibly to this universe. For all Tim knew, there were Lazarus Pits here, or at least ingredients to make one. Once again, Tim didn't have any way to find out for sure, so old fashion detective work it was. 

Old fashion detective work was actually going quite well so far. In the past week he's discovered five warehouses around the city where Ra's has taken over and started hiring people to take care of (whether or not the people working them know who their boss is is to be determined) and he has suspicions about four others that he hasn't confirmed or denied. He hasn't seen any more of those strange weapons on the streets, which he was both relieved and terrified of, and he's managed to avoid the Avengers despite their frequent searching for him. He's not sure if Spider-Man (whom he quickly found out was a 17 year old named Peter Parker, a genius teenager that currently had an internship at Stark Industries) told the heroes about meeting him or not, but he's decided it's not worth worrying over. He was going to run into them eventually, so really he was just delaying the inevitable. 

Currently, he was at one of the warehouses he was suspicious of, hiding in the shadows of the building's as he observed it. The place seemed legit enough, a trucking company that he's seen many of times while in New York, but as Batman's training burned into his brain: you could never be too sure. So here he is at 3 a.m, thighs cramping from his awkward crouching position, waiting for anything to confirm or deny his theory.  

(Honestly, he hated stakeouts like any other vigilante, he just had the self control to not complain about them every ten seconds (cough Damian cough)). 

At this point, after being there for nearly four hours, Red was starting to grow tired. Apparently not moving for hours on end and getting less than four hours of sleep the night before will do that to you, who knew? At least there wasn't anyone around him that would complain about it... even if he was  _really_ starting to miss his crazy family and friends. But even now he wondered: did they even miss  _him?_ Did they think he was even  _gone?_ There was no way to tell... only moving forward would do anything.

_Don't think about it now._

Just as Red was about to call it a night, a hailstorm of bullets suddenly lit up the night, nearly causing Red to fall right out of his perch. He quickly caught and straightened himself, jumping from his perch and through a window that lead into the warehouse where the bullets came from. Right now he didn't care whether or not this was one of Ra's's warehouses; he needed to stop the source of that gun fire that was still going off every few seconds.

The moment Red landed he melted into the shadows, following the sound of gunfire to an open area. He felt bile rise in his throat at what he saw: nearly two dozen bodies scattered throughout the room, most of them filled with bullet holes and a few still twitching with rapidly fading life. In the middle of the carnage was a figure in red and black, two swords strapped to his back and guns covering his legs and waist. He was also covered from head to toe in blood, and... _he had no left arm?_ In front of this figure was a man with both of his kneecaps shot out, desperately trying to get away from the figure, though it was much to clear that this killer was just toying with the poor man.

"You see,  _this_ is what happens when you mess with little six year olds who are just trying to get through their pathetic little lives without your  _buddies_ coming to fuck it up," the figure said, almost in a joking light hearted tone. It was kind of creepy if Red were to be honest, especially since the figure reminded him of Red Hood. Hood would do and say something very similar, but the vigilante never did play with those he had on his list very much.

"So do me a favour and tell the rest of your friends that while I go talk to the sweet ass from another world.  _Damn_ Alex, you didn't have to send him to me, but you did, which is why I love you. Hugs and kisses!" And with that weird monologue, to himself if Red wasn't mistaken, the figure shot the man in the thigh, and he decided he couldn't stand by and watch any longer.

In true Bat like fashion, Red appeared from the shadows, throwing a bird-a-rang at the figure, aiming at his still intact hand that held that gun. How he functioned normally on one arm that was still gushing blood he didn't know, but honestly, Red's seen weirder things than this. His current best bet was that this guy was some sort of metahuman, though what his powers were yet to be determined. 

The man's head turned comically at the sound of the bird-a-rang coming his way, but did nothing to dodge them as they hit him clean in the wrist, making the gun fly out of his hand, just as intended. Much like Spider-Man's eyes has, this man's mask eyes  _widened,_ like he was excited to have his weapon knocked out his hand. Granted, he had at least half a dozen other guns that Red could count, or he wasn't unarmed in the slightest, but still.

"You're even more bad ass in person!" the man exclaimed, hopping right over the man he shot like he wasn't on the ground moaning in pain. Red instantly whipped out his bo staff, getting more and more weirded out by the second. The man didn't even seem to notice the staff in his hands, walking up to Red until he was only 10 feet away. He would have gotten closer hadn't Red swept his feet from underneath him, causing the man to fall on his back. 

"Oh! And he's quick, too!" the man, whom Red now dubbed Comic Sans, squealed like this was the best thing that's ever happened to him. The blood coming from the man's stub arm began pooling on the ground, but still, he didn't seem to notice or care.

Seriously, what the  _fuck_ was  _wrong_ with this universe?

Grumbling to himself, Red got out his zipties that were strong enough to hold Superboy, intending to render the man's one hand unusable so that he could call the cops to put this maniac in jail, and perhaps medical attention. Comic Sans only laughed at the sight, sitting up and...  _wiggling his eyebrows...?... which were **under** the full face mask...?_

"Oh, getting kinky on the first date, aren't you babybird?" 

Red froze in place, not moving a muscle. Did Comic Sans just call him...  _babybird?_ As in the nickname Hood gave him all those years ago, and still called him to this day?

"Yep, that's the one!" Comic Sans said, as if he could  _hear_ Red's thoughts. Was that his power then, a telepath? But that still didn't explain the arm-

Which, as Red grew to realize, was slowly rebuilding itself as time went on. The stub was getting longer and longer, forming a full, fleshy arm that was covered in scars. It would have made a lesser man vomit, but Red's seen much worse to be disturbed, even if he  _really_ wanted to look away.

So, Comic Sans healed himself or something. The vigilante's never seen a healing factor that  _strong_ before, but he knew very little about the meta's-  _mutants-_ in this world. 

"I'm not a telepath, sweet cheeks. I _can_ hear what Alex is typing though, so I guess it  _is_ like reading your mind," Comic Sans trailed off, looking deep in though. "Nice nickname by the way! Personally, Metal Shit Bucket is my favorite, though Propaganda Man is a close second."

"Who  _are_ you?" Red demanded, tightening his grip on his bo staff. The distant sounds of sirens were steadily getting closer, meaning a civilian must have heard the gunfire and called the police. While Red was intent on letting them to their job, he wanted to conduct his own investigation, especially since the warehouse he thought was in Ra's hands was suddenly shot up by this crazy guy. 

"Who, me? Well, they call me Deadpool! Or,  _I_ call me Deadpool," Deadpool tilted his head to the side, looking contemplative. "As much as I enjoy talking to you babybird, you might want to split before the po po gets here. Most of them still don't like capes, which is  _completely_ hypocritical seeing as they kiss the ground where the Avengers walk on."

"Not until I know why you came here," Red demanded firmly, leaving no room for negotiation in his voice. Deadpool, like everything else, didn't seem to care about this. Either Tim was losing his intimidation that all Bat's had or this guy was somehow immune to it. Somehow, the thought of him being immune to it didn't seem all that out of the realm of possibility. 

"I came to shoot asses and maybe get one. As you can see, losing an arm  _wasn't_ part of the plan, but you know, minor details," Deadpool replied simply, shrugging. "Now sweet cheeks, you  _really_ need to go before the boys in blue show up. Beam me up, Alex!"

There was silence for about 10 seconds where Deadpool looked up at the sky like it would start raining chocolate or something. When nothing happened, he whined, "Alex! I thought we were friends! You need to write me out of the story  _somehow._ Oh, and by the way, this warehouse didn't belong to that Ra dude you're looking for. That one on Union and 22nd though,  _that_ one has some gold to dig in to. Beam me up, Alex!"

Red sighed, running a hand over his face. He had no idea how Deadpool knew about Ra's or the warehouses he was tracking, but it honestly didn't feel like it wasn't possible with this guy. The vigilante did a double take when he looked back at the maniac, finding that he was simply... gone. 

What the Hell was up with this universe. And does that mean this Alex character was influential to everyone, and could be talked to?

He didn't know. He wasn't even sure if he wanted the answer. 

But at least he had  _some_ answers, like whether or not this place belonged to Ra's or not. Sure, it took the massacre of the entire warehouse for him to find out, but there was nothing he could really do about it. He should leave like Deadpool said.

When the police broke down the door less than a minute later, Red Robin was nowhere to be found.        


	11. In Which Peter is Still Confused (And Tim Just Might be Going Crazy)

Nearly a week after the encounter with the guy Mr. Stark called 'Pebbles,' it was still very much fresh in Peter Parker's mind. I mean, how could it  _not_ be? It would be like saying,  _hey, you know that man you saw running naked across Fifth Avenue the other day carrying a giant stuffed unicorn and being chased by cops? Well, try not to think about **that** like, at  **all.**_ It was just straight up  _impossible_ to do. Seriously, he's losing  _sleep_ over this guy, mainly because he's worried what he's going to tell Mr. Stark and the rest of the Avengers. 

Yes, he planned on telling them sooner, but Peter never had a moment to say anything between school, Spider-Man, and Aunt May's persistent mother henning (I mean really, you come home with  _one_ black eye and suddenly you're under house arrest). He was going over to the Tower later today for his 'internship' and decided that would be the best time to do it, but still, he was nervous. Would Mr. Stark be mad that he didn't say anything earlier? He didn't think so, or more accurately,  _hoped_ so.

So now here he is, in Mr. Stark's lab, trying to figure out the best way to start this conversation. 

_Hey, you know that guy that kicked all of your collective asses and managed to hack J.A.R.V.I.S? I met him the other night fighting this weird old guy with a sword, who also happened to just disappear by the way. It was an odd night._

Perhaps that wouldn't be too bad, actually. Honesty is the best policy, after all.

"Something on your mind kid?" Mr. Stark questioned, making Peter realize he's been staring blankly at the piece of tech he was trying to work on for at least five minutes. He has a bad habit of doing that, something he's been trying to get rid of but couldn't. He just couldn't think and do things at the same time; he had to pick one or the other. 

"Um, uh, yeah, actually there is but uh," Peter scratched the back of his head, quickly stopping when he realized he was using one of the tools. "I'm just afraid you'll get kinda mad?"

Mr. Stark actually chuckled at that, turning fully around to face Peter with a smile. "Kid, I seriously doubt that anything you have to tell me would get me mad. Unless you've been skipping school again,  _then_ we're going to have to have a talk," he replied with a good natured tone, taking away  _some_ of the nerves that were still flying around in the teens stomach. 

"Well, um, you remember telling about the guy with the staff? The one that disabled your suit with that weird tech and you called Pebbles?" Peter said quickly, hands twitching nervously. Mr. Stark raised an eyebrow, as if asking him to continue. The teen took a deep breath, smoothing down his shirt. "Well I, uh, met him the other day while I was patrolling, mainly because he was getting beat up by this dude with a  _really_ sharp sword and was probably in the middle of a monologue or something. He didn't seem very happy to see me for whatever reason, even if I helped him. Oh, and he  _really_ wasn't happy that you gave him the nickname Pebbles, so if you ever see him again, I wouldn't say that to his face."

For a solid minute there was no sound or movement from Mr. Stark. Peter was seriously wondering if something was wrong with the man when he suddenly yelled,

_"WHAT?!"_

 

 

The Titans would be proud if they knew how much he was sleeping. Who knew that the lack of a full time job left more time to do normal human things? His usual four hours was bumped up to a little over six, something Kon's been trying to get him to do for months now, even taking a page from the Bat's book and drugging his coffee. Well you can take your drugs and shove it down your throat, asshole. 

But now, Tim was seriously regretting going to sleep that night. He was positive he slept  _much_ longer than six hours, given that his internal clock was currently going off the charts and he was having trouble opening his eyes, still half asleep. But he could hear voices in the apartment, voices that were  _very_ familiar and that he very much wanted to confirm were actually real and not the product of his imagination. 

_"Hey Timbo, can you hear us at all?"_

_"Check one two, is this thing even working?"_

_"Seriously Steph, this thing isn't a microphone or something. You don't have to do that."_

_"You need to lighten up."_

_"Tt, you know that we have no way to know if Drake can respond or not. For all we know this entire thing is pointless."_

_"At least we know Replacement is even alive now. Hate to have done all this work for nothing."_

_"Quiet down, all of you."_

****Yeah, Tim was 85% sure he was hallucinating his family's voices. But the other 15% was _really_ happy that they were looking for him, even if they still didn't have the best relationship with one another. It was quite touching.

"What..." were the only words that managed to come from his mouth, eyes slowly opening. The air above him seemed really fuzzy, like he was seeing it through water. The voices instantly came back at that, sounding really excited and relieved.

_"Timmy, you can hear us?"_

_"Where are you?"_

_"'Bout damn time, babybird. Searchin' for you is about as hard as lookin' for a needle in the worlds largest haystack."_

_"So you are still alive. Tt."_

_"Tim, I need you to tell me if you're alright. We can reach you, but it's going to take some more time."_

__"All... good?" Tim croaked out, wondering if he had officially lost it. Their voices were already fading, and after a few minutes of hearing nothing in return, he finally sat up in the bed, rubbing the drowsy sleep out of his eyes. Sun was filtering brightly through the windows, the sounds of New York reaching his ears. There was no sign of the fuzzy air he saw before, leaving his apartment in its normal, boring, messy state.

Yep. He was definitely losing it.           


	12. In Which the Avengers Finally Find Pebbles (Though, It's Kinda Cheating if You Think About It)

Note to self: next time you are given advice from a crazy, definitely psychotic and murderous maniac from a different universe, don't take it. You'd think that would be a given seeing as much shit as Red Robin has gone through at this point, but  _clearly_ something didn't click at the time. 

After he was told that his hunched about there being a Ra's controlled warehouse was confirmed by Deadpool (who still gave him the creeps, by the way) at Union and 22nd, Tim thought it would be a great idea to simply charge in head first without any other consideration for his safety. Sure, when he made the decision at the time he was still trying to figure out the probability that he was going crazy or not, but this probably turned that up to a 100%. Usually, he was very thorough in his sleuthing; stalking the area for a few days, figuring out patterns and schedules, anything he could before he jumped it, and yet for whatever reason, it seemed perfectly fine to waltz right on in without doing  _any_ of that.

Like  _seriously_ Timmy, aren't you supposed to be like, a  _detective_ or some shit? Ra's should find a new nickname for you.

And that's exactly what he did. Thankfully he didn't make an entrance (like  _some_ people he knew), going through an unprotected air vent that according to the buildings blueprints would take him to the center of the warehouse. When Red came to the end of the vent, he silently opened it, sneaking out before slinking into the shadows. He couldn't hear any guards around him, which was slightly odd if this indeed was one of Ra's' supply units. That  _should_ have been the first red flag for him to recognize, but _no,_ he  _had_ to keep going.

Red stalked down to a lower floor, where the space opened up quite a bit. The only light illuminating the area was a few small light bulbs hanging from the high ceiling, leaving the vigilante in mostly darkness. This was easily solved with a few taps to his cowl, the lenses turning on their night vision feature. It would be nice if he could maneuver perfectly in the dark without assistance like Matt could, but unfortunately, Red was only human. Even with Batman's training he could only extend his normally bodily functions so much, and that included being able to see in the dark. 

There were boxes lining the warehouse walls everywhere he looked, though none of them were labeled, at least from the outside. Red narrowed his eyes behind the cowl, once again finding it odd that there were no guards  _anywhere._ Maybe Deadpool was messing with him... but at the same time, why would he? He never once showed ill intent towards him, even if he had been surrounded by dead bodies at the time.

Could he have been working for Ra's? Told to go there and send Red here? If so, the Demon's Head would be  _quite_ disappointed the vigilante fell for his trap so easily, and honestly, Red would feel the same. Has time in this universe made him less sharp, more lazy? It did feel like the villains here weren't as cunning and smart, or maybe there were so many heroes in the same area that he didn't run into the ones that were. It was hard to say either way.

Red slowly walked up to one of the crates, running his hand along its side, which was surprisingly smooth. He didn't think it was wood, but a type of durable plastic of sorts. Whatever it was, it was definitely meant for durability and longevity. 

The vigilante gradually moved his hand up the crate, finding the subtle indent that revealed where it opened. Red placed both hands on the lid of the crate, wiggling it a little bit to find that it was easy enough to push back, not making a sound as he did. The back of his neck was tingling with something, but as he took another survey of the warehouse room, he found nothing out of place. It was putting him one edge, how easy all of this was. It was  _never_ this easy.

Red looked back at the crate, seeing vials of  _something_ nestled very carefully in it. He was getting ready to pick one up to examen, when a sharp voice came from right behind him.

"You know, I didn't believe Ra's when he said the Bat's smartest bird would come willingly. Either way, it'll be nice to test out my new  _formula."_

The vigilante whipped around, hand already reaching for his bo staff, when a horrid smelling gas was sprayed directly into his face. Red (stupidly) took a giant breath of air without realizing, already paying for his mistake as his vision immediately started swimming. He only managed to catch a glimpse of Jonathan Crane's smirking face when his entire world went black.

 

 

"Hey Tony, you might want to see this."

The billionaire looked up from where he was working on his repulsors, seeing Bruce's concerned face. "What's going on?" Tony asked, hearing his spine crack as he stood up from his seated position. Something must be seriously wrong by the look the scientist is giving him.

"So you know how you and Steve set up all of those cameras around the city in order to try and find that Pebbles guy?"

Tony nodded, lips quirked up in a small smile. He was slightly smug he had managed to get most of the Avengers to start calling their little problem that, even if Steve and Nat still refused to. The guy was pretty much a ninja that they would never catch on any normal cameras, so Tony decided the best cause of action would be to set up there own secret cameras that were pretty much invisible to the naked eye. So far they still haven't caught anything, but by the sounds of it, that would be changing very shortly.

"Yeah. Did you see him?" Tony pressed, feeling excited at the idea. Sure the guy put a virus in J.A.R.V.I.S that still sometimes acts up (usually when they're intentionally searching for him) but that didn't stop the billionaire from wanting to pick the guys brain over to find out just how smart he truly was. He was clearly up with the best of the best with the technology he's created.

"Well, yeah, I did. He's by that old H.Y.D.R.A base on Union, but that's not what's concerning me," Bruce fidgeted with his glasses, which were in hand. "What is is that A: he went  _inside,_ and B: he was followed by a man wearing a bag over his head and a container of something. What I'm saying is that I think Pebbles might be in trouble," Bruce rambled.

Tony was silent for a few moments, taking in the information Bruce just told him. "Well," he mumbled. "Guess we're going to save a bird. Or not, either way we finally get our hands on him somehow," then louder, "assemble the Avengers."

 

 

Less than five minutes later (after a surprisingly little amount of complaining about being woken up at 2 a.m), all of the Avengers had indeed assembled. Tony guessed he shouldn't be too surprised, after all, many of them were night owls (accept Clint, who grumbled the entire time). The H.Y.D.R.A base Bruce told them about wasn't far enough for them to use the quinjet, so by foot or flight it was.

10 minutes after that, all of them were standing outside the old Nazi base, looking for the best way to get in. Steve quickly found a door that was unlocked (for whatever reason... this place was still under SHIELDs jurisdiction, wasn't it? Wouldn't they keep something like a H.Y.D.R.A base secure at all times incase some random civilian wants to go sneaking around the place?

With Clint watching their backs from a building away, Tony, Steve, Wanda, and Sam all filed in through into the warehouse. They all made their way down the hallway, keeping an eye and ear out for anything that looked out of place. 

"Friday, do you sense any heat signatures in the building?" Tony asked his AI.

"Yes, I sense two bodies in the main room of the warehouse. They're odd, though. One if extremely muffled by something and the other seems to run at a cooler body temperature than a normal human," the AI replied. Tony relayed the information back to his teammates, and as they approached the central room of the warehouse, the billionaire turned up the hearing on the suit. It caught the barest shift in the air, like someone moving equipment or something. Then the creepiest, most emotionless voice came through, sending chills running down Tony's spine.

_"You know, I didn't believe Ra's when he said the Bat's smartest bird would come willingly. Either way, it'll be nice to test out my new **formula."**_

Immediately after followed the sounds of someone choking, sending Tony's nerves on fire with fear. "Something's wrong with Pebbles," he said with distress clear in his voice. 

He ignored Steve's attempt to ask him  _what_ was wrong, mainly because right now  _he_ didn't even know what was wrong. All he knew was that something  _was._ The billionaire busted open the doors that lead to the main room, flying right into the air, his lights allowing him to see the scene in front of him. Pebbles was passed out on the floor, and standing above him was a man wearing a bag over his head like Bruce described. The creepy man looked up at the Iron-Man suit, a low growl coming from his chest.

"You aren't supposed to be here," came the scratchy voice. "But that can be arranged quite  _nicely."_  

__And before Tony could do anything else, sickly green gas came pouring from the container the man was holding.


	13. *UPDATE* *NOT A DISCONTINUED NOTE I PROMISE*

Hey everyone! It's Alex, and I thought you guys should know something real quick: as of right now, In Which Red Robin is Done with Marvel's Shit will be put on a very temporary hiatus. Believe me when I say, I did NOT want to do this, but my life has recently got a little bit crazy.

About two months ago, I caught a basketball, and I bruised the tip of my finger REALLY badly. At first, I thought I had just stubbed it, and anyone who has done that knows what I'm talking about. I expected it to be gone within two weeks, no harm done.

More than a month and a half later, the tip was still very swollen, bruised, and would not straighten. There was no pain, but with some convincing from one of my teachers, finally got it checked out by a doctor today, as of the ninth of April.

As it turns out, I broke the joint plate of my first knuckle, and since I didn't come in immediately after it broke, it is now surrounded by scar tissue, meaning there is a very low chance of it setting by itself. This means I must have surgery done on it, and afterwards I will have to keep my finger in a cast for at least five weeks. This is a problem because A: I am a competitive dancer and this means I will probably have to miss out on my nationals. B: I am in marching band, and if I wait too long to get this fixed, I will miss the entirety of the season. And C: my finals are coming up soon, and it would be really hard to do that if one of my fingers are imobile.

For these reasons, and a few others, I have decided to temporarily stop writing this fic in order to put my main focus into finishing A Reason To Fight. I want to hopefully get it done before I go through surgery. I repeat: I WILL CONTINUE THIS FIC, as soon as I feel I'm able to. I have NO intention on stopping it. I love writing it WAY too much, and you guys love it way too much for me to do that. 

The main reason I have decided to focus on A Reason to Fight is because it's been around the longest, and of all my fics I'm currently writing, it takes me the longest to write. What takes me less than a day with this fic takes me nearly five days with the other one, and that's IF I'm not working on anything else at the same time. This will more than likely also apply to The Time Lost In Between.

I'm sorry that I had to give this news like this, but I hope you all understand. I'd also like to mention that my summers are usually busier than the rest of my year, so you'll probably see a decrease in writing, but I have no plan on stopping.

Thank you all for reading this and taking the time to support me in any way you have!

~Magical_Devil_Alex    


	14. In Which a Lot of Gas is Passed (But Surprisingly, None of it Smells)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey everyone, this story is officially back! I finally finished a Reason to Fight and The Time Lost In Between, so that means all of my writing time can go into this fic! I still have my surgery in a few weeks, but I'll let you guys know when it happens. I also have another plan for a new fic I'm writing up, so I hope you guys can check it out when it's finally released!

For nearly a minute, Tony wasn't able to see anything but green, green, and well, more green. That's all he  _still_ could see, and now he was really starting to wonder what this stuff was supposed to be. He could tell the gas was getting into the suit, the suit itself having no way to filter it out... but nothing was happening, not like what happened to Pebbles. It smelled weird, sure, but that was it.

Tony could hear the growling of the man with the weird bag over his head, like a  _really_ pissed off tiger. "Why the hell isn't it-" he started, only to be immediately cut off by the rest of the Avengers bolting into the room. The green gas was starting to thin, so Tony could see his fellow Avengers reacting to the situation.

"Tony, what's going on?" Steve demanded, taking in everything he could- and couldn't- see.

The billionaire chuckled slightly, replying with, "Bag Head tried to take me out with this gas stuff. Clearly it didn't work." He raised his arm, shooting the blaster in the direction he believed Bag Head was. He smiled when he got a pained sound in response, though he wasn't sure how accurate his hit was. The gas was clearing even more now, so much so that Bag Head was now visible and clutching at his arm, when his white lab coat had a large, chard circle.

The rest of the Avengers began surrounding the man, Steve's shield raising, Nat's guns going in hand, Sam preparing his wrist guns and Wanda's hands beginning to glow with red light. Bag Man cursed viciously to himself, looking around desperately for any way out, but the heroes had him cornered.

"So, are you going to tell us what you did to Pebbles over there, or are we going to have to do this the hard way?" Tony asked, a hard edge to his otherwise humourous voice. For whatever reason he's grown quite fond of Pebbles, even if most of the time he was just a pain in the ass more than anything. Pebbles was still laying on the floor with not one bit of movement coming from him, even if JARVIS confirmed that he was breathing and alive. 

Bag Head growled, his injured arm tightening into a fist. "I'll finish this later," he said, almost to himself before he pressed two fingers onto his wrist, shouting, "get me out!" All of the Avengers eyes widened as they realized what was about to happen, but they had no time to react by the time Bag Head was consumed by a green light, making him disappear.

"Who the Hell was that?" Wanda questioned, the red of her hands fading away. No one could provide an answer, but in all honesty, Tony wasn't interested in answers right now. All of his focus was on Pebbles, and he swiftly rushed over to the passed out boy. Man. Whatever the fuck he was supposed to be, he could care less at the moment. 

"JARVIS, run an analysis on that gas and see what it's made of," Tony said as he picked up Pebbles, fully intending on bringing him back to the Tower so that Bruce could do his medical thing and make sure he wasn't about to die. That would be much appreciated, especially if he still wanted to pick Pebbles' brain to see how smart he truly was. Though, that last thought might not be as important right now.

"Already on it, sir," replied the British voice of his A.I. 

"We need to take him back to the Tower. Barton, tell Bruce that he needs to set up the med bay as quickly as possible and to call in any available doctor he can. We potentially have an emergency situation." Tony turned to the other Avengers, not even bothering to see or ask for their input. They seemed to understand that, easily following behind the billionaire without question. He wasn't even sure if Clint responded to his request or not his mind was so jumbled, wondering if this could be anything from magic to a horrible poison.

By the time they got back to the Tower, Tony was a mess, though you could never tell from the outside. He disassembled his suit, still carrying Pebbles (who by the way, felt  _way_ lighter than he probably should be, even if he was small) to the med bay. Bruce was already there with his gloves on and everything set up. When he saw Pebbles, as blurted out, "what  _happened?"_

"Some creepy guy with a paper bag as a mask, we'll fill you in later," came Tony's choppy answer, his heart pounding as as he placed the boy onto the table. "He was hit by some sort of gas, but we don't know what it is or what it does. All we know it-"

There was suddenly a gasp from Pebbles that cut Tony off, followed by intense coughing that  _must_ have hurt like a son of a bitch. His entire body shuddered with the coughs, the whites of the cowl abruptly becoming visible as he opened his eyes. He was looking right at Tony, the little skin that could be seen turning pale and sickly looking, sweat breaking out along his cheeks and nose.  _"Bruce?"_ he croaked out, sounded terrified beyond measure. 

Tony furrowed his eyebrows together, unsure how to react to the name. It didn't sound like he was referring to Bruce Banner, but someone else. Someone close to him that he knew very well.

"I'm sorry, kid, But I'm not-"

Pebbles flinched harshly without any warning, falling off the table with how much he moved. Bruce rushed to help him but in the blink of an eye Pebbles kicked him away, chanting,  _"no no no no no no, not again-"_

Bruce tried to get close again, but this time Pebbles tackled him to the ground, shakily standing up and getting as far away from both Tony and the scientist as he could. Sweat was now pouring down his face, dripping onto the ground below, and he was gasping like he couldn't get in enough air, clawing at his cowl like it was strangling him. "Please,  _stop,"_ he was begging sounding so young and so  _vulnerable. "I'm sorry I'm sorry I'm-"_

He stopped moving all together when the rest of the Avengers came into the room, whimpering as if their presence caused him physical pain. Wanda jerked at his reaction, her eyes going wide and glowing as if she was responding to Pebbles' distress. 

"Something's really wrong with him," Wanda hushed, stepping towards the boy slowly. Unlike with Bruce, Pebbles didn't attack her when she got close, but he did start to curl up on himself as if to make himself even smaller than he already was. Wanda gradually raised her hands, placing them on the sides of Pebbles' head, making the boy gasp again as his entire body went limp. 

Wanda cried out in pain, and before any of the Avengers could understand what was happening, a flash of red light filled the entire room.        


	15. In Which Pebbles is Not Actually Pebbles (And the Avengers Get More Than They Bargained For)

When the flash of red light recessed, there was a thin sheet of red dust over every inch of the med bay. The dust quickly faded away, along with any evidence of the room around them, leaving the Avengers in what appeared to be a dark red room with no end in sight. 

"What's going on-" Clint tried to ask, but instantly stopped when the red room turned into what appeared to be a large mansion, a small boy and his parents standing in front of it. They were all dressed in some of the finest clothing any of them had ever seen, including the boy, who couldn't have been older than five. The fancy car behind them was turned on, like they were expecting to go somewhere even though it looked like they just got back from someplace else.

"Now, Timothy," said the woman, her voice surprisingly cold and emotionless as she addressed the boy in front of her as if he was nothing more than a nuisance. "You know the rules. Mrs. Mac will bring your meals every Sunday and Wednesday. Keep up with your studies. Don't do anything idiotic," she told him in short, clipped instructions. The boy, Timothy, didn't look her in the eye as he responded.

"Yes, Mother."

The woman nodded, grabbing the arm of her husband as the chauffeur opened the door of the car and stepped inside. "We'll see you in a few months, Timothy." Then they were gone, leaving the child all by himself with nothing but the giant house for company. The boy turned to face it, the shadows that seemed normal before suddenly turning darker and longer, reaching out for the boy as if to swallow him. He didn't even look phased by the shadows, only walked stiffly towards the house and going inside, becoming one with the darkness.

The scene changed, and the Avengers could see that they were now in what many of them knew to be a circus. Timothy was a little bit older now, though not much, and his parents were nowhere to be seen. He was talking to a boy a few years older than he was, perhaps a friend? He was wearing red and green tights, and he was saying to Timothy, "I'll do a quadruple flip, just for you!" before running off. Timothy had a giant smile one his face he he closely watched the older boy, who was now with his parents. 

"They're acrobats," Natasha mumbled to herself, but everyone else barely heard her. They were too focused on how one moment everything was happy and joyful, and the next the older boy's parents were lying dead on the ground, Timothy watching it all in horror. His own parents came from out of nowhere, shielding his eyes and dragging him away from the scene, a picture clenched tightly in his small hands.

It changed again, and this time they were surrounded by a dark city in the middle of the night. Over head, two figures were jumping from building to building with practiced ease and grace, one of them in a bright colored outfit while the other wore a much darker one. The muffled sound of a picture being taken followed the figures wherever they went, though it was always too dark to tell who it was taking them. But at this point, none of the Avengers had to guess who it was: Timothy.

They watched as the figures fought crime, not so much unlike what Spider-Man did in New York; everything from the common thug to crazy looking villains that could walk straight out or your nightmares. Wherever they went, Timothy followed, taking his pictures and stalking their every move. 

But then... something changed. The brightly colored figure was no longer there, and the one left behind took a much more sinister turn. The thugs he would normally knock out and leave for the police were nearly beat to death; he sustained more injuries than normal; became sloppier and less cautious with his actions. Timothy also noticed this, flinching at the bloody trails the dark figure would leave behind, biting his lip thoughtfully. The sound of an evil laughter filled the air right before the scene changed once more.

Timothy was now a good bit older, twelve or thirteen perhaps, though he was still very small. He was standing in front of an apartment door, knocking on it with a hesitant hand. A few moments later, a man opened it, his bright eyes landing on Timothy immediately. 

"Tim? Is that you?" the man asked, sounding slightly shocked. "What are you doing all the way in Bludhaven?"

Tim didn't move a muscle for many seconds, seemingly frozen in place with his mouth gaping open like a fish. The man's eyes furrowed in confusion.

"Tim?"

"I know who you are," Tim finally blurted out, the words coming all out in one breath. "And I know who Mr. Wayne is, and Jason Todd. I've known for a long time." The man's eyes widened, his hand clenching tightly into a fist.

"Look, Timmy, I have no idea what you're talking about-"

"Batman needs a Robin. He's going to kill someone or get himself killed if he doesn't. Please, Mr. Grayson, I need your help." 

Another shift. Tim was in a room with a much older man, his eyes dark and hard as ice, but never once did Tim shift or look uncomfortable under his gaze. Tea sat untouched in front of both of them, and if anyone had to guess, the liquid was cold.

"How long have you known, Tim?" the man demanded, his voice deep and commanding. 

"Long enough, Mr. Wayne."

"How  _long,_ Tim Drake?"

The boy blinked at the man, taking a deep breath. "Since before Jason became Robin. Believe it or not, figuring it out is one of the fondest memories of my childhood. But my point still stands, Mr. Wayne: if Dick can't be Robin, again, someone must be. Someone  _has_ to be."

"And you think that someone could be you?"

Tim blinked slowly, and for the first time he looked down at his hands, a look of uncertainty crossing his features. But it went away swiftly as he looked up again, replacing it with determination. 

"I  _know_ that someone could be me."

Tim was now wearing the colorful costume from before, though the Avengers could tell there were changes to it, even if they couldn't pinpoint  _what_ was changed. He took the the skyline like a natural, fitting together perfectly next to the dark figure. He actually  _smiled,_ and while it was a small smile, it was one nonetheless, one as they soon would find out, was very rare on Tim.

A red silhouette was watching them in a distance, a look of revenge gleaming in the whites of his mask.

"You thought you could help Bruce,  _Replacement?"_ the red figure jeered, Tim suddenly pressed back against his chest, a knife held firmly to his throat. The dark figure was a few yards away, muscles tense as the red figure pressed the knife harder into Tim's throat, the first beads of blood rolling down the silver blade. 

"Jason," the dark figure said softly, the barest hint of panic lacing his voice. "Please, leave him alone. This it between you and me."

The red figure, Jason, snorted like it was the funniest thing he's ever heard. "Here's the thing Bruce: the second this fucker decided to become Robin, my  _replacement,_ it stopped being between you and me. And plus," he chuckled darkly, his voice going into a deep growl. "I want to see your face when you lose another precious baby bird." 

Then, quicker than most people could follow, Tim's throat split wide open and blood came pouring out.

It changed again before anyone could properly react, stunned gasps coming from many of the Avengers. There was no way anyone could survive anything like that, let alone a teenager-

But they were proved wrong when they came face to face with Tim yet again, around sixteen or seventeen now, perfectly alive and healthy. He was in what looked to be a cave with two other people, one a man that he confronted at the apartment, and the other a younger boy... wearing the bright colored costume. Tim's face was completely devoid of all emotion, staring at the uniform on the boy like it was the only thing he could see. 

"-I see you as an equal Tim, I really do," the older man was saying, but it was slightly muffled, like listening through water. "That's why I want Damian to be Robin-"

And then all sound coming from him was cut off.

_I want Damian to be Robin,_ echoed in the room, everything else fading out besides Tim. 

_You're just a my replacement, Pretender. Don't think that Bruce or Dick actually care for you, because to them, you're just a constant reminder of what they lost. To them, you're easily replaceable, you're just a placeholder until someone better comes around._

_You were never meant to be Robin. You forced your way into this family, no wonder Dick rejected you the second Bruce died. Damian is the **true** predecessor of the Robin mantle, not you. _

_You couldn't even keep your best friends, dad, or mentor alive, what kind of hero **are** you?_

_Even Ra's al Ghul was able to see what you couldn't... some detective you are._

_He'll take the Titans away from you too. He's taken everything else._

_No one wants you._

_You serve no purpose anymore._

_All those scars, all for nothing._

_You should've just stayed who you were meant to be._

"No," Tim was whimpering, though no one could tell if it was the one from the memory or the real one. "Stop, make it  _stop!"_

The ground began to rumble all around them, whispering voices that weren't able to be understand growing louder and louder. Tim's fingers wounded tightly in his dark hair, sobbing harshly.  ** _"STOP!"_**

Then it did. The voices and the black faded away, and ever so slowly, the med bay at the Avengers Tower came back into view. The boy was in the middle of the floor, now longer being held up by Wanda, who was just staring at him in pure shock. No one knew what to say, if they could even  _say_ anything. All they could so was standing there and all think the same thing:

The one they've been chasing for so long was the same boy that was crying in those visions. 

He was Tim.   


	16. In Which Tim Hates Drugs (And Yet For Whatever Reason, He's High)

It's not often that Tim dreams, and right now was no exception. Now nightmares, those were all too common, filled with his insecurities and horrid memories from the past, taunting him with long made mistakes. Many of nights, they woke him up screaming, but it hasn't been until recently that someone's found out, AKA, he slept at the Manor and Dick heard him and instantly bolted to his room. At the Titans Tower, while there may be metahumans with super hearing, Tim's made sure that his room is entirely sound proof, unlike the Manor. Everyone from Alfred to Cass to even Damian has begged him to try some sort of medication so that he could sleep through the night, but each time he's blatantly refused, mainly for one reason: he  _hates_ being drugged.

It didn't matter that he was basically immune to most drugs and mild poisons at this point, he  _despised_ the feeling of not having full control over his bodily functions, and that included the nightmares he couldn't control. He'd rather suffer through them then take some damn pills.

That's why when he woke up and couldn't even open his eyes for several  _minutes,_ Tim knew something was up. There had been no nightmares he could think of, but there  _should_ have been, especially since he knew that the day before hadn't been... the best of all days. But that was another thing; he couldn't recall what had happened before he was laying on something vaguely soft and wrapped tightly in a warm, cotton blanket. At least his sense of touch hadn't gone away completely, even if almost everything else had.

There was... something beeping in the background, Tim slowly realized, focusing on it. It sounded just like a heart monitor like in a hospital, more than likely meaning he was in one... for some reason. Why would he be in a hospital? Sure, he felt like total shit, but there were no major injuries he could detect on himself, and the little bit he could move his body didn't hurt at all.

Tim took a deep breath, only to immediately find himself coughing, his lungs burning in protest to the harsher movement. They were short, not even with any sound to them, but they  _hurt,_ a  _lot._

_Maybe... that's why... I'm here..._

Taking a more shallow breath this time, Tim forced his eyes open as wide as they could go, finding that the light in the room he was in was fairly limited, and even though that light still hurt his eyes a little bit, he forced them to stay open. The walls and ceiling were white, just like any other normal hospital, but as he turned his head to the side, he noticed tools that were not in standard practices... at least, not in any  _regular_ practices...

If anything, it looked like the med bay back at the Batcave.

"Bruce?" Tim couldn't help but blurt out, a part of him hoping that the entire time in the other universe had been all in his head, the product of some fever dream. "Alfred?"

There was no reply, which Tim found weird. If this really  _was_ the Batcave, then _someone_ should have been there watching over him. It was an unspoken rule they all had, making sure that the one injured wouldn't be alone when they woke up. If no one was here... then this couldn't be the Batcave.

_Or they don't care about you, made sure you woke up alone so that you know your place. You should leave before they come back, before you see the disappointment on their faces._

"Stop," Tim hissed to himself, trying to calm his racing mind. He thought he got rid of those thoughts long ago, but apparently they were still hanging around in the back of his mind. But why would he be thinking about those things... unless-

_Fuck._

It all came back to him in a single moment; how he entered that warehouse that Ra's was supposed to be controlling, only to find Jonathan Crane, AKA the Scarecrow waiting for him. The gas thrown in his face and easily able to bypass the Red Robin suits self ventilation system; the horrible memories and visions that came after-

_Wait._

Without realizing it, Tim sat straight up, his hands coming to clutch at his face. His bare,  _cowless_  face that no one should have been able to get pass- unless you were Bruce Wayne or Matthew Murdock- and he  _seriously_ doubted that Matthad all this tech hanging around and if this wasn't the Batcave-

_Where the Hell am I?_

There must have been left over drugs in his system, because the head rush from him sitting up was causing his vision to swim and blur. He must have been given something  _strong,_ because usually by now he would shake off the side effects of whatever he's been given. Not even Ra's al Ghul has found something he can't resist within an hour, and he's been out for-

Gods, how long  _has_ he been out? 

His heart rate was spiking with adrenaline and fear, making it hard for him to think passed the annoying and constant noise. Without thinking he located the needle in his right arm and took it out, barely feeling the small sting of pain, and ripped off the pad that connected him to the heart monitor. It flatlined from lack of a heartbeat to track, which someone was more annoying than the constant beeping. Tim unwrapped himself from the blanket, finding that he was wearing a simple grey t-shirt and sweatpants, no Red Robin outfit to be found. 

It was probably a terrible, horrible, no good, very bad idea, but hey, that's what Tim Drake was known for, which is why he shoved himself off the bed he was laying in and stood up on the tilted floor. His knees tried to buckle on him, but he refused to fall, even if the supposed solid ground below him was trying to bend like it was made of rubber. Is this what being high felt like? He was pretty sure this it what being high felt like. 2/10, would not recommend. 

Before he could come up with a semi-sensible plan to get himself out of here, the door of the room slammed open, and three people rushed through. 

 

 

"I'm telling you this guy doesn't even have a  _spleen._ I've done X-rays on him and everything, and there's a scar on his side that corresponds with where the spleen should be. He's basically running on half an immune system," Bruce sighed, tired of trying to get his fellow Avengers to understand what he was saying. He knows that the majority of them were still trying to process the visions that Wanda unintentionally provoked ("Not visions," he remembers her saying; "they were  _memories.")_ But they had to get out of their own heads for just a few minutes.

"How is he not constantly sick or something?" Steve asked, staring intently at the chart Bruce had made of all their guests injuries and scars. There were dozens, maybe even hundred of scars and evidence of past fractures, many more than all of the Avengers put together. The scientist was sure that was also a reason they were all so disjointed and scattered, to see all of those scars on a kid...

Bruce shrugged. "I don't know. He's definitely a human and not a mutant or anything along those lines, but his body composition is... different from ours. I have no idea why, it just is. Speaking of which," he brought up a different chart next to the other one, this one that showed the mysterious gas that was sprayed on both the boy and Tony. "Whatever this stuff is supposed to be, it's harmless to the average person on Earth, but for whatever reason, it react differently with our friend. It attacks his brain waves and changes them, causing him to see hallucinations and and heightens the part of the brain that responds to fear and retains memories."

No one said anything for several seconds, and Bruce wasn't sure if it was because they were thinking or if they weren't paying attention to him at all. Oh, the wonders Bruce Banner.

"That scar on Tim's throat is from where they red guy cut it, isn't it?" Tony said suddenly, the name making everyone flinch. Everyone else had silently refused to say it, feeling slightly guilty that they knew Tim's name without ever being told, even if it was what they've been searching for for a while now. It was different, looking into someone's most intimate memories and fears without even knowing a thing about them to begin with.

Bruce coughed into his hand and rubbed the back of his neck. "Yeah, it is."

"How many scars  _does_ he have?" Sam asked, his voice nearly emotionless. He wasn't even looking up when he asked it.

"I haven't been able to count them all... but so far I have..." the scientist squinted down at his clipboard, mentally preparing himself for the words about to come out of his mouth. "20 from hand guns, 24 from knifes, 7 from what I believe to be sword strikes, 3 areas where he's been burned... and maybe evidence of him being tortured." The silence that followed was much thicker than the first, ready to ignite with one spark.

"He's a _child soldier,"_ Steve hissed, a look of pure anger flashing over his face. "You saw how young he was when he started, and now he has more battle scars than any vet will ever have in an entire lifetime. And there's no way he's the only one, in fact we  _know_ he isn't the only one. In those visions... there was more, two before him, on after. Wherever he comes from, apparently it's acceptable to constantly put children in life or death situations."

No one had time to reply or even think on the words before there was suddenly a flashing red light filling the room and JARVIS's voice coming on from over head, saying, "I hate to interrupt, but it seems that Mr. Drake has woken up from the setitive that you gave him and it attempting to leave."

That instantly got the Avengers into action, and without missing a beat Steve commaded," Wanda and Clint, secure any major exits in the Tower, Natasha, get all the vents and secret passageways, Bruce, lock down the lab, Sam and Tony, you're with me to the med bay." Everyone scattered to do their job, Steve Sam and Tony all sprinting to the med bay.

"How is he even  _conscious?_ Bruce gave him enough sedative to knock  _you_ out after the kid wouldn't stop thrashing from the smaller doses," Sam said as they approached them med bay. Steve didn't have an answer for his friend, but he did know once he slammed the door open to see the kid  _standing on his own_ that Bruce saying he wasn't a methuman must be false.

Tim considered them with a fuzzy look in his eyes, looking  _extremely_ unimpressed. 

"Well shit."        


	17. In Which Tim is No Longer High (But He's Considering Getting Drunk, If These Bitches Won't Stop Being Bitches)

"Well shit."

Those two words seemed to summarize Tim's life pretty well, seeing as how shitty his luck has been the past day or so. First Scarecrow hit him with some new toxin that made him relive all his worst memories, then he wakes up in a place that doesn't know, and now he finds out he's in the same building as the  _Avengers._

_Without_ either of his masks on.

Well, at least they won't be able to find out anything about him; there's no Timothy Jackson Drake in this world and his DNA doesn't match with any human being-

"Tim? What are you doing?" asked Tony Stark, the words instantly making Tim freeze in place, eyes wide. They knew his  _name?_ What the Hell- how could they-? There was no logical way they could figure it out-

"How do you know my name?" Tim demanded, the left over grogginess from whatever drug he had been given forgotten. Without missing a beat he picked up a particularly sharp looking knife that was on the counter next to him, holding it loosely in his hand so that it would be ready to move at any moment. He wasn't below fighting his way out of wherever this place was. He knew he could do it, he's done it before. The only thing he was really worried about was his Red Robin suit; it was one of a kind, and he  _really_ didn't want to make another one. Or have Tony and whoever else look through it and figure out it's secrets. You know,  _priorities._

Steve Rogers took a slow step forward, raising his hands in mock surrender. "Look kid," he said gently, like he was comforting a wild animal. I made Tim's eyes narrow and grip on the knife tighten. "We're not going to hurt you, we just want to help."

Tim scoffed, flipping the knife easily so that the tip of the blade faced the three men. "Hate to tell you this, but A: I'm  _not_ a kid, so _don't_ treat me like on. B: I know it might be hard to believe this, but when you've chased and pretty much  _stalked_ by someone, it's kinda difficult to trust any bullshit that comes from their mouth. So, I recommend you  _get out of my way."_

There was a thick silence between the four of them, ready to snap at any moment. Honestly, despite the show Tim was giving, he wasn't entirely sure if he could fight three on one when he was still so weak. If only he had his bo staff... and the rest of his gear... or even some god damned back up.

Calling Matt to come kick some ass wasn't off the table, was it?

"You're right," Tony said abruptly. "You have no reason to trust us. I'll tell you what: you put down the pointy knife, come with like we're all civilized, and we'll answer all the questions you have. Deal?"

Tim stared hard into Stark's eyes, looking for any hint of a lie or double cross. When he found none, he replied with, "I keep the knife and I have the right to refuse to answer questions that anyone has. Take it or leave it."   

There was another little stand off, but weirdly enough, Tim's danger sense was relatively quiet and calm. Apparently his instincts were telling him that he wasn't in harms way, though the Bat in him was as paranoid and strong as ever, ready to search for possible escape routes and places where his suit could be hidden.

"Deal."

Tim released a breath he didn't realize he had been holding, though the movement was so small that it could be considered a regular breath, but he noticed Sam Wilson's pupils dark towards the minuscule twitch, a pair of red goggles over his eyes. Tim's read the files on Wilson and the gear he has, how those goggles gave him even better vision than the Falcon he was named after. He decided to ignore the man's wondering gaze to instead follow Stark who was now steadily walking out of the room, knowing that Rogers and Wilson would be flaking behind him. It was a small vulnerability, but if it meant getting out of that room, he was willing to take it. He was proud of himself when he didn't get the urge to cower because of just how tall they both were. 

He was lead down a long hallway that melted into what seemed like a giant family room completed with its own huge kitchen and large flat screen T.V. Immediately to the left was a lab of sorts, filled with chemicals and charts that showed-

Well, that showed  _him._ He would know those scars and injuries anywhere, but he didn't allow his discomfort to show, not even taking a second glance at the lab as he walked passed it. Not even the moving form of who could only be Bruce Banner out of the corner of his eye caused Tim to break that discipline, watching as Stark took a seat on one of the many couches and his colleagues hesitantly followed his lead. 

"So I guess everything is... okay now?" Banner asked awkwardly, the only remaining Avenger standing, twiddling with his thumbs. Tim crossed his arms, making sure to keep the knife tucked protectively against his arm. He had no doubt that Rogers caught it, seeing as he  _was_ a soldier and whatnot. 

"Yeah, something like that." Stark tilted his head to the ceiling. "Hey JARVIS, tell the rest of the bunch that everything's a okay and there's no need to panic anymore. Also to join us in the living room."

"No problem, sir," replied the British A.I. Despite already knowing quite a bit about the A.I from hacking both S.H.I.E.L.D and Stark's files, Tim was still intrigued by how it worked more like a living being than a programmed computer system, like it had a brain and heart of its own. Back in his own universe there wasn't anything quite like it, but honestly, the idea gave him the creeps. But maybe that's the part of him that's seen too many Terminator movies and read to many Dystopian novels.

Within two minutes the rest of (or, what Tim  _assumed_ to be the rest of) the Avengers were in the same room. Tim silently counted them all, taking in what they were wearing and what weapons they could potentially make out of the environment around them. Stark could call down a suit with a simple command... both Rogers and Natasha Romanoff didn't need a weapon to fight if necessary... Wilson was still wearing parts of the Falcon gear... he didn't think Banner would be too big of a threat, seeing as he had to stay calm... Clint Barton could used those cup holders and pencils to throw... and Wanda Maximoff, well, she could thrown anything at him. Or read his mind. Which, now that he thought about it, was probably the reason the Avengers know who he is in the first place.

The thought makes him scowl, pressing the knife even tighter against the skin of his arm. Any harder and it might break the skin, but he didn't care. 

"So..." Barton started, looking immensely uncomfortable in the middle of all this silence. "Is there a plan with Pebbles, or-"

_"Don't_ call me that," Tim snapped. "And don't talk about me like I'm not ten feet from you, Barton." 

That shut the archer right up, his eyes widening slightly at Tim's outburst. He fought the urge to squirm under all of their gazes, instead opting to stare at the glass that showed New York City below. Something about it make him feel nostalgic for the Wayne Enterprises building that towered over all of Gotham, showing the best and worst parts of the city. 

He closed his eyes, taking a deep breath, imagining it as Gotham's horrible, shitty air. He ached for home more than ever before, but honestly, Tim had no beliefs that he would ever make it back. It's been  _months_ since he's disappeared, long enough for everyone back home to give up or to simply decide that he wasn't even worth it anymore-

_Shut up, Tim._

_Got it, Tim._

"Where's my suit?" Tim asked quietly, a lot of contrast from his sentence before. 

Tony answered it without even missing a beat. "I my personal lab two floors up."

"What have you done to it?"

"Haven't even had the time to look at it, dude. You've only been out of it for maybe," he checked his watch. "An hour."

"How did you get me  _out_ of the suit?"  

"JARVIS detected the ah...  _securities_ and warned us how to get passed them."

Damn. It seemed like Tim was going to have to update his suit to be undetectable by sentient A.I, words he never thought he'd ever think.

"Why do you keep trying to follow me?"

"You're really going to ask  _that?_ You're a freaking  _genius_ that's somehow managed to escape both S.H.I.E.L.D's and our radar, and plus, we really had nothing better to do.

Tim wasn't sure if he should feel flattered or annoyed. He decided to go with both.

"How did you know where I was?"

"Cameras. They're everywhere around New York."

"How do you know my name?"

The room instantly got tense at the question they must have known was coming, Banner turning his gaze towards the ground, Wanda openly fidgeting, and others refusing to maintain eye contact. Except for Tony, whose eyes went slightly darker than they had been a moment before, his left hand twitching, wanting to turn into a fist. But it wasn't Tony who answered, but Wanda. 

"When... we found you... this man with some sort of bag over his head had sprayed you with this gas. When we brought you back here, you began having hallucinations thinking we were certain people and hearing things that weren't there. I... I felt your turmoil and thought maybe I could ease whatever it was but... it cause a reaction that made it so that whatever you were seeing be broadcasted to everyone else in the room... which was everyone." Wanda sighed. "I didn't mean to do that, but the way we know your name is because the memories you were having said it. And more."

"How much more?" Tim hissed, feeling his head starting to swim again. 

"Everything."

_That_ was when Tim decided that he wasn't nearly drunk enough to have this conversation.   


	18. In Which Tim is Officially Done With the Avengers Shit (But Really, Who Isn't?)

You know, before this moment, Tony thought that they were making some progress with Tim.

With each question asked and answered, the boy minimally relaxed, his eyes not as icy, his posture not so tense. The other Avengers seemed to be relaxing as well, understanding that all Tim wanted was some answers, which really, he deserved. But yet, they all felt the inevitable question that kept coming closer and closer, like the calm right before a storm.

When Wanda told Tim that they knew  _everything_ (which, while true, didn't mean they  _understood_ what they saw) any progress the boy had was swiftly broken, his knuckles going while from how tightly he was clenching his fist. His eyes went so dark that they might as well have been black, a glare in them so fierce that Tony could see Nat flinching.  _Nat,_ the unbreakable assassin that was trained to never show fear,  _flinching._

It was disturbing to say the least.

" _What_ do you know?" Tim drawled, his voice reminding Tony of a wolf right before it attacked. 

Steve stepped forward at that point, sensing the danger levels from their guest spiking. "Okay, maybe we should all cool off for a moment-"

But Steve never got to finish his sentence, because at that exact moment Tim threw the knife he had kept hidden in his arms, so fast that only Clint was able to successfully track its movement. Clint watched with wide eyes as the knife seemed to go in slow motion, heading with deadly accuracy to Steve, but he couldn't stop it. It was moving way too fast and the archer was way too far away to do anything. All he could do was watch in horror- as the knife flew right passed his teammate. 

The world sped back up again, and in half a heartbeat the sound of twanging wood filled the air. For a second no one moved a muscle, and then Steve slowly raised his hand, feeling the warm drops of blood coat his fingers from where the cut on his cheek bled. He hadn't felt any pain when the knife cut him, and even now he was too much in shock to feel anything. The knife Tim had thrown was now deeply embedded in the wood of one of the cabinets in the kitchen, all the way to the hilt.

"I'll tell  _you_ to cool off when your most personal memories and fears are shown to a group of strangers. We'll see how  _you_ like it," came the surprisingly calm whisper from Tim. "Now, I'll ask again:  _what_ _do you know?"_

Without missing a beat, Wanda continued talking like everything in the passed thirty seconds hadn't happened. "They saw your parents leaving that giant house, a boy's parents dead on the ground at a circus, you taking pictures of the vigilantes, you becoming a vigilante, your throat being slit by that red man, and the young boy becoming Robin."

A beat.

"Is that all?"

Wanda raised her eyebrows slightly, her lips pursing into something that looked like regret. 

"I saw everything else."

"Wait, you're telling me there was  _more?"_ Sam demanded, looking  _pissed_ at the idea of there being more hardships and tragedies that Tim's gone through. 

The telepath nodded saying, "yes, much more. What I unintentionally showed wasn't even half of it. If I had shown everything..." she shivered. "We would  _still_ be looking though all the memories. I just didn't say anything. I already revealed enough." Her eyes went downcast, like she felt guilty.

"Do you know who they are? The other vigilantes you saw?" Tim continued his that low voice.

"If you're asking if I know their names, then yes,  _who_ the are, however, I don't know."

Tim sighed, though it was hard to tell if it was supposed to be a relieving one or an annoyed one. He ran his thin fingers through his dark hair holding back of his head for a few moments with his eyes closed before he suddenly moved again, stalking towards the kitchen without making a sound. It was odd, watching a real, physical thing that should make some sort of imprint on the world around them simply  _not._ Without even looking he yanked the knife out of the cabinet and made a beeline to the coffee machine, which had just finished brewing.

The Avengers watched in amazement as Tim  _found_ a coffee cup (without opening any cabinets to look for one, of course, because what the fuck would he do otherwise?) and poured coffee into it. Without even hesitating the boy took a long gulp of the liquid, straight black without any sugar or cream. He then filled in up  _again_ and walked out of the kitchen area, not even sparing a second glance at anyone else before walking down the hall.

"Wait!" Tony called out, deeply confused by everything that was happening. "Where are you going?"

"To find my suit," was the only response he got before Tim disappeared completely. 

"Does he even know  _where_ to find his suit?" Bruce asked, eyes darting back and forth between Tony and the direction Tim went. 

"Well, yeah he  _does,_ but he can't possibly know  _how_ to get there!"

Tony raced down the hallway, looking for where Tim could have possibly gone. But it's like he  _literally_ disappeared, even the smell of his fresh coffee fading into nothing like it too was trying to hide Tim. When the billionaire made it to the elevator, he saw that the numbers read the 67th floor, meaning Tim was two floors up from where he currently was. Tony couldn't help but smile at this, thinking that if he ever got Peter to meet Tim that they would probably make everything explode.

Surprisingly, he found that he wouldn't mind that in the slightest.


	19. In Which Tony is Actually a Good Guy (And Even More People Show Up)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey guys, so my surgery is in a few days, so updates might slow down a little bit. Enjoy~

It really didn't take Tim long to find the place where his suit was there was a literal A.I butler that would simply give him directions to its location. Under said A.I's instructions, it was easy for Tim to find the Red Robin suit, which was in exactly where Tony Stark said it would be. The state of the art lab that was filled to the brim with machines and tools was enough to make Tim excited, even if it still wasn't as advanced as the Batcave's. 

Tim made a beeline for his suit, which was neatly sitting on a table, and carefully placed down his still mostly filled coffee cup. He inspected every inch of it, finding that pretty much everything was where it should be and nothing was moved or out of place. The worst of it was only a few rips and tears, things that could be easily dealt with with some good old TLC.

Using tools from around the lab, Tim got to work. It was soothing, doing the motions he's done for years, calming his nerves and heart. It was nice to know that not everything under his care had fallen apart under his hands, that he still had control over something in his life. He's always felt like this when it came to fixing his suits, though with him becoming Red Robin it became even  _more_ important to him. This was the identity that he made for himself, the protector that he shaped into something for the entire world to see.

He didn't know if it was five minute or five hours when he heard someone walk into the lab with him, not saying or doing anything that would interrupt Tim. Tim decided to ignore them for now, thinking that it couldn't be Steve Rogers or Clint Barton since there was no awkward tension seeping into the room. He would say he felt bad for snapping at them both the way he did, but in all honesty, Tim wasn't. These Avengers had to understand that he wasn't just some kid with a death wish, that he's seen things that would give them nightmares for years. Sure, this universe had its fair share of alien invasions and god like beings attacking the universe, but all and all, their villains were nothing compared to the ones back home, so numerous in their numbers that the even the greatest heroes needed help with them at all times. 

Finally, just when Tim thought that the person had simply left, Tony Stark sat down right across from him, observing him work. Tim didn't look at the billionaire, content on keeping all of his attention on the Red Robin suit, which was gradually having less and less things to repair. 

"Did you make this?" Stark asked, his voice barely above a whisper. This caused Tim to glance up at the man, feeling slightly uncomfortable at the intensity of his stare.

"Yes. The design was made and put into functionality all by me," Tim replied, a tinge of pride in his voice. Of all the things he's made over the tears, the Red Robin suit was definitely his proudest, something he was constantly improving and tweaking.

"Why did you make it?"

Tim looked down at the question, fingers tightening around the tool he was holding. Bitterness threatened to swell up, but he swiftly shoved it down, not wanting to deal with the emotion of it. "I think you already know the answer."

For the next few minutes, there was no sound from the billionaire, prompting Tim to continue his repairs. Soon there was nothing left to fix, leaving the Red Robin suit as good as new. It still wasn't perfect, sure, but he could worry about that later when he got back home. 

_Which home are we talking about here? The crappy apartment in Hell's Kitchen? Or Wayne Manor?_

Honestly, Tim wasn't sure anymore.

"Would you mind telling me where you're from?" Tony eventually questioned, fiddling with one of the tools that were on the table. Tim wondered if he should tell the truth, dig himself deeper into this hole he's found himself, and oddly enough, found that he didn't mind it much. Tony Stark wasn't that bad of a person, and so far he's done his best to make Tim feel... welcome. Even before then when he was basically trying to stalk Tim, he wasn't really creepy about it in the way Tim was used to. 

Tim stood up from his seat, feeling his bones crack from where he's been sitting for too long. His coffee was cold now, but for once he didn't find himself wanting to get any more. His stomach felt slightly sour for some reason, and the idea of more coffee in his system seemed repulsive. Gods, what was wrong with him?

"You wouldn't know the city," Tim told Tony, carefully folding the Red Robin suit. "It's called Gotham."

The billionaire furrowed his eyebrows together in confusion. "Is there a reason I  _wouldn't_ know this city?"

_Oh, decisions decisions. Stay in secrecy or spill everything. Get shot in the chest or your throat slit. Decisions, decisions._

_Might as well._

Tim sighed, looking Tony right in the eye. "Because Gotham doesn't exist in this universe."

 

 

Everything in Tony Stark's mind screeched to a grinding halt, no thought forming for a solid minutes as he tried to process what he was just told. "I'm sorry, I must have misheard you, can you say that again?" he asked with a tinge of deliriousness in his voice. When he came to the lab he had intentions on asking their guest some casual questions, maybe figure out where Tim's from and why there was a dude dressed as the ultimate edge lord, but he didn't expect... whatever  _this_ was.

"I  _said,"_ Tim emphasized, "that Gotham, where I'm  _from_ doesn't exist in this universe. _I'm_ not from this universe. Any more questions?"

"What- of  _course_ there's more questions!" Tony sputtered, not understanding how Tim could be so casual throughout all of this. Did he show up in random universes all the time or something? Was this a normal occurrence? Did that mean-

Tony thought back to the night they had first seen Tim, how he had simply appeared out of nowhere, beaten and bruised up. He remembers how  _confused_ and _disjointed_ Tim had been, how his first instinct had been to run away. Well, then again, the Avengers hadn't been too kind to him either. They had basically (tried) to chase down a guy that had just been literally ripped from the fabric of his own universe and thrusted into this one without any way of getting help.

Holy shit.  

Tim sighed again, running his hand through his dark hair that nearly brushed the tops of his shoulders. "If I give you a quick run down of what happened to get me here, will you stop looking at me like I'm from Mars or something?" His eyes widened, like he realized what he said was bad, but quickly recovered. "I'm still from Earth, still human, there's just a few... differences."

Tony considered this, dozens of questions burning his tongue. He wanted to know what Tim's universe was like, the differences and similarities,  _everything._ He felt like a kid at a candy shop. But if Tim was uncomfortable...

The billionaire nodded, keeping his mouth firmly shut.

Tim looked relieved at this, taking a deep breath. "To make a long story  _really_ short there was this not so good guy that was causing a lot of havoc, and my team and I were charged with taking him down. Fast forward a little bit, and said not so good guy zaps me with a lazer thing that well, sends me here. And here I've been ever since for about," he stopped for a moment. "Four months now? That sounds about right. Four months."

Huh. Has it  _really_ been that long? It didn't feel like that in the slightest, but Tony was never good at keeping track of dates or times. That was usually Pepper's job. 

"Is there any way for you to get back? To your own universe, I mean," Tony rambled, suddenly thinking about the family and friends Tim surely has, after all, he saw some of them when Wanda... well, when Wanda peaked inside his head. There was still so much the billionaire wanted to ask, but those could wait.

Tim shrugged, rubbing his fingertips over the fabric of his suit. It brought up a question that Tony hadn't really thought to ask: just what was Tim called as a vigilante? He  _did_ have name, right? It would be kind of odd to have a nameless vigilante popping up everywhere, and he was positive Pebbles would  _not_ strike fear into the hearts of his enemies. Then again, neither did Captain America, but here they were.

"I don't know if there's a way for me to get back. Your science is... slightly different from my science. There are compounds I don't know about and don't really understand, the rules of physics changed a little bit. And I don't have the resources to look into anything." He sounded frustrated, and rightfully so. Tony knew he definitely would be if he was abruptly thrown into a completely different universe.

Before Tony could think up any sort of reply, a thundering  _BOOM_ followed by a crack of lightning and the smell of ozone filled the air, singeing the hairs on Tony's arm. For a moment all the billionaire could do was sit there with a stunned look on his face, blinking away the white spots in his vision. When his eyes finally cleared, two things were important to him.

One, Tim was in total defense mode, his staff out of whatever hiding place it had been tucked away in, looking ready to kick some major ass.

Two, Thor and Bucky Barnes were collapsed in a piling heap on the floor, smoke still curling off of them.

Tony looked from Thor to Buck to Tim, not entirely sure how to react to any of it. But of course, Thor always did.

"Hello Tony! You never told us you had a son!"         


	20. In Which Lightning Really Does Strike Twice (Not That Anyone Was Surprised, Given Who's In The Room)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So I've officially had my surgery (yay) so I'm gonna attempt to write this while still semi recovering from the anastisea. Fun times.

The thing is with Thor, half the time you have no idea what's gonna come out of his mouth, which really felt more like all the time, but really, who's counting? It's not like any of the Avengers weren't used to the god's (demigod's? It's hard to say anymore) antics, but there were still a few things he would say that would catch you off guard. Like proclaiming that the boy who was from another universe was his son.

Now that Tony thought about it, Thor has basically done the same thing when he had first introduced him to Peter, though at the time Tony hadn't thought much about it. In a way he did consider Peter his son, but he never exactly said it out loud. 

"Thor, Bucky, nice to see you guys again!" Tony exclaimed as the two got onto their feet. As always, Bucky had that slightly confused look on his face that he tried to cover up with a stern stone expression, still unsure of the world around him that was filled with technology beyond his imagination. Thor looked as happy as ever, his bright smile infectious and warm, even towards Tim, who was still looking at the pair with clear distrust. Tony did suppose it would be startling to see two men suddenly appear out of nowhere with no context whatsoever, but really, Tony had been expecting this for days. Bucky and Thor had been sent on a super ultra secret mission (Clint's words, not his) and were expected to be gone for months. Steve had been quite pouty when he found out Bucky would be gone for so long (though he would never admit to it) especially since they literally just had a 'you're really not dead' reunion. 

"You have a son?" Bucky asked bluntly, confusion written all over his face. Clearly he was trying to put two and two together as his dark eyes went from Tony to Tim, wondering what part of the equation he was missing. Little did he know, he wasn't even getting the right answer.

"Tim? Tim isn't my son, he's, uh, well, he's complicated," Tony explained none too helpfully. Tim scoffed at the billionaire's words, cautiously lowering his staff.

"That's one way to put it," the boy mumbled under his breath. Tony could see how his eyes were instantly drawn to Bucky's metal arm, his brilliant mind undoubtedly moving a million miles an hour in an attempt to understand how it worked. He was the same way, though the only person Bucky's ever allowed to even get close to his metal arm was T'Challa and his sister, and that was to improve it. With anyone else the soldier was extremely uncomfortable, even with Steve surprisingly enough. 

At that moment, the star spangled man himself decided to burst into the room, Wanda, Sam and Clint not far behind. His blue eyes darted from Tim and Tony to Thor and Bucky, his tense muscles relaxing at the sight of his best friend.

"We heard a loud boom," Steve said dumbly, sounding embarrassed. The tips of his ears were turning red, which was honestly adorable.

Clint's lips quirked into a smile, saying, "at least now we know it was just these two idiots. Nice to have you back," the archer clasped Thor on the shoulder, giving the taller man a quick hug. The demigod returned it fiercely, replying that it was good to finally be home. Or at least, home on Earth, though Tony wasn't sure if Asgard could be called Thor's home anymore given how long he's been away from the place. 

The rest of the Avengers followed suit, greeting their fellow heroes and welcoming them back. No asked the questions they were all dying to know: where did you go? Why couldn't you tell anyone? What did you do?

Those questions could and would be asked, definitely, but not now.

Tim watched all of this from a distance, still studying Thor and Bucky like they were aliens from a different planet. Without moving his eyes he put down the staff, shoving his now free hands into a pocket of his vigilante suit, taking out a small device that looked a lot like a Nokia phone. In turned out with a pleasant beeping noise, the blue screen lighting up his pale face.

"You okay over there, Tim?" Tony asked, suddenly feeling like something was off. Sure, the boy didn't really know who Thor and Bucky were, but this felt different. The look in Tim's eyes were something bright and dark all at the same time, questioning yet hopeful.

Bucky took out something that looked similar to Tim's phone thing, and instantly Tony could feel the mood in the room shift entirely, mainly from Thor. The demigod's normally bubbly nature closed up, the faint smell of ozone seeping into the air. 

"Bucky? Thor? What's going on?" Steve questioned slowly, but neither answered. They were too busy staring intensely at Tim, who was doing the exact same thing. The device in Bucky's hands turned on as well, though its screen was red instead of blue, and both machines glowed brighter, as if responding to the other one. 

"You... you both were..." Tim mumbled, looking completely baffled at the supposed information he was receiving from... whatever that device was. 

"You're the Red Robin," Bucky stated bluntly. Tim nodded jerkily, his grip on the device tightening. The smell of an incoming storm only grew stronger at the confirmation, but for what reason, no one knew. In fact, the more the Avengers thought about it, this didn't seem like it was coming from Thor...

"You're family misses you," Thor told the boy, a small smile coming to his face. "They're very close to figuring out how to get to you, in fact-"

Lightning filled the lab at that exact moment, sending everyone in the room flying back. Tony crashed into something with glass on it, pain shooting through his back. He cried out from the pain, hearing similar grunts throughout the room. The lightning was so bright that it temporarily blinded the billionaire, causing white spots to dance in his vision for many seconds. When it finally cleared, he was greeted with a very odd sight.

Tim, for one, had not been affected by the lightning's force whatsoever, still very much in the spot he had been moments before.

In the epicenter from where the lightning had come from, there were two young boys, one in a very familiar red, green, and yellow outfit, while the other was wearing a simple red sweater but covered in ash and smoke.Both boy's looked very confused and disoriented, but Tim's voice rang through the room clear as a bell:

"Damian, Billy? What the  _hell_ are you doing here?" 


	21. In Which Damian is NOT Having it (And Billy is a Little Ball of Sunshine)

Damian Wayne has had a rough time these past few months. One the outside, it might not look that way, but on the inside he was basically screaming to himself 24/7.

Honestly, Damian blamed it all on Drake, which he thought was appropriate. After all, this entire thing started with the former Robin getting himself teleported to a different dimension by Grandfather, which never would have happened had the Titans been smart enough to make sure Drake was never alone with Ra's al Ghul. You'd think after so many years of Ra's trying to get an heir from Drake and the amount of shit they've both pulled in each others presence that it would be an unconscious thing to do, but no, somehow Grandfather got Drake alone and  _BOOM!_ he was gone. It was like the worst magic trick in the history of magic tricks, which was  _seriously_ saying something, seeing as magic was a horrible thing that should be wiped from existence.

You'd think the madness stopped there, but  _no,_ now things got even  _worse._ The entire superhero community was freaking out enough with one of the Bats suddenly gone from the face of the Earth, but you just  _had_ to add two more idiots to the mix. Two more idiots that also happen to be from a different dimension he should add. And what do you know, they  _also_ happen to be from the same dimension that Drake was sent to, confirmed by the Interdimensional Sensor that picked up on the energies of various alternate realities and universes. Apparently they were 'accidentally' sent there because they were investigating various interdimensional disturbances and got caught in one of the portals. 

Just peachy.

But wait! It got better!

Not only were those two buffoons sent over (their names were actually Bucky and Thor, like the  _god_ Thor, but whatever) but some of their villains were as well. And as it turns out, they were working with Ra's al freaking Ghul. 

Sigh.

The only villain that had been remotely fun to keep in check was Loki, but he didn't turn up very often, and when he did, Thor refused to fight him, claiming that they were brothers. Damian was just glad that Loki only seemed to want to mess with them and not actually cause harm, which would have been entirely disastrous given how cunning he proved to be. 

During all of this, they still spent nearly all of their time and resources to trying to figure out how to contact Drake and get to the dimension he was in. It took months and months of researching and threatening to even get some answers from the smartest people on the planet, and even  _then_ it didn't help. Neither Thor nor Bucky knew anything about the science they needed, so they were next to useless besides beating up other buffoons. Typical. 

It wasn't until they turned to magic (disgusting) that they finally got  _something._ Zatanna and Dr. Fate provided much needed information, but it wasn't until they got Captain Marvel involved that things began to bare results. Apparently, Captain Marvel was one of the few magic beings in the entire universe that had easy and instant access to a portal powerful enough to cross dimensions. Who knew that every time Batson opened his mouth that the lightning that struck him came from a different world all together? Not even Dr. Fate knew that. Then again, Dr. Fate didn't know that Captain Marvel was actually a twelve year old named Billy Batson, which made  _no_ sense. But hey,  _magic._

It took some trial and error, but eventually they figured out how to send a very weak and short message to Drake, though it was hard to tell if he really believed it happened or not. Then once they had collectively kicked all of the villains from the other dimension asses, they sent Thor and Bucky back. Once it was confirmed that it was possible for Billy to successfully teleport people from dimension to dimension, literally everyone and their mothers wanted to be sent to the dimension to get Drake. It was ridiculous, especially since even  _Todd_ was apart of that group.

They were delayed, however, because pretty much all of the magical energy in Batson's body had been drained from the teleport, and he promptly passed out for a week. When he finally woke up, he ate an entire three meals worth of food and declared that he was ready to teleport the chosen hero to get Drake. The thing was, like Damian mentioned before,  _everyone_ wanted to go get Drake. 

After some arguing, it was decided that Father and Grayson would be the two to go, along with Batson so that they could travel back, even if they were all followed by some nasty mumblings. Superboy practically  _demanded_ that he go, seeing as Drake was _his_ teammate and all, but he was quickly shut up with a few...  _persuasive_ words. In the end, there were next to twenty people in the Batcave to give a farewell to the three, including Todd, Cain, Brown, most of the Titans, a few Justice League members, and Pennyworth. It was the fullest Damian has ever seen the Batcave, and he had the feeling he would never see it that full ever again.

The thing was, with them nothing ever went right. That's why when Captain Marvel called,  _"SHAZAM!"_ to bring down the magical lightning, the machine he, Father and Grayson were in to contain and control it abruptly decided to stop working. Lightning flew through the air, hitting many of the heroes in the room as they all cried out in shock. Damian very clearly remembers the sharp jolt of electricity shooting through him, and the sudden feeling of falling through nothing when he swore he was just standing on very solid ground. 

When he finally managed to feel something under his feet again, he could tell he wasn't in the Batcave anymore. Everything was way too bright, and he could see the sun coming through windows, which would make no sense seeing as it had been midnight not one minute ago. There was someone groaning right next to him, and when Damian turned his head he saw Batson covered in ash and much paler than he had been before. Then again, before he had still been in the adult form of Captain Marvel, and now he was just Billy Batson. 

"Damian, Billy? What the  _hell_ are you doing here?" 

Damian looked up at the very familiar voice, seeing none other than Drake not even three feet in front of him. He hadn't changed a bit, though his hair was a bit longer than he usually accepted it. His features were plainly shocked, a strong emotion he rarely let others see.

Even as elated as Damian was to see Drake (though he would never admit it on his deathbed) the boy managed to cross his arms and say, "Tt, if I'd known you be so ungrateful after going through all this trouble to find you, Drake, I would have suggested Father and Grayson not to waste their time."

Drake opened and closed his mouth like a fish, blue eyes darting around the room they were in. It was just then that Damian noticed the other people there (another thing he would never admit) and how they very much looked like they got struck with lightning. There were scorch marks all over the walls, and the faint scent of rain still floated throughout the air.

"Mister... Thor?" Billy croaked out, swaying dangerously on his feet. Damian immediately reached out to steady the other boy, noting how even though he looked seconds away from passing out that he still had a giant smile on his face. When Damain looked to where Batson was staring, a low growl came from his throat. It was the two buffoons, and how it looked like they had friends. 

The Norse god gave a small wave, which Batson did his best to return, when a sudden thought popped into his head:

What happened to everyone else?

There was more people than just him in the Batcave that wasn't supposed to be taken to the other dimension, so if they weren't here, what happened to them? The gravity of the situation was starting to harshly press on Damian's shoulders when he heard a something that seriously made him question his sanity.

"Huh. So  _you're_ the walking traffic light."


	22. In Which Everyone is Confused (And This Universe Just Got a Lot More Full)

You know, Billy Batson liked to think he did a lot of things right. There were a lot of things he did wrong, sure, but with being trusted with the powers of literal gods seemed to mean that he was doing  _something_ right. And just five minutes ago he was doing something right, teleporting him, Batman and Nightwing to a different dimension where they would then rescue Red Robin. In all honesty, Billy had been  _way_ excited to go, I mean, how often do you get the chance to go to a different  _dimension?_ Alternate universes were one thing, but completely different dimensions... that was an entirely different thing altogether. 

Maybe if he had the wisdom of Solomon constantly he would have realized sooner that Robin shouldn't be here with him, and that Batman and Nightwing were nowhere in sight. But as it turned out, being totally drained of magical energy for the second time in a week apparently meant that you couldn't really think straight. At least he didn't have the abrupt urge to pass out this time, but he could go for a long nap.

As it  _also_ turned out, the infamous Batglare was nothing to scoff about. Billy almost couldn't stop himself from laughing at the man who called Robin a walking traffic light, but he didn't once he saw the glare that wasn't directed at him. Even behind a mask that covered his face, Robin  _still_ managed to pull it off flawlessly.

The man who had said this had dark hair and a beard, and also this weird glowy thing in the middle of his chest. Billy had the sudden urge to go and touch the glowy thing, but he stopped himself, deciding that it would be kinda weird and also not very polite. 

"Did you just call me a  _traffic light?"_ Robin seethed, looking prepared to unsheath the dangerous sword strapped to his back. That would  _not_ be very good if they wanted to make peace with this dimensions residents. 

Luckily, Red Robin (should Billy just call him Tim since he was out of uniform?) stepped in between the two before anything could break, his blue eyes hard. "Robin," Tim said sternly, looking from the man back to the boy. "Tony. I will not have a fight break out when you guys  _literally_ just met. I don't have the patience or coffee capacity to try and deal with this."

"But Drake!" Robin protested, still looking venomous. "That fool insulted our legacy!"

Tim sighed, running a hand over his face. "Look, Demon Brat, it's  _really_ good to see you, but I need to know where B is. Surely he didn't send just you and Billy to find me."

Robin looked uncomfortable to answer that, so Billy answered it for him. "Uh... we don't know what happened to them." 

Tim blinked. "What do you mean  _you don't know what happened to them?_ Who is  _them?"_

"Only Nightwing, Batman and I were supposed to come here to get you. But uh... something went wrong and now I have no idea how many people I accidentally teleported here. I mean, if I got Robin then that means Red Hood, Mr. Alfred, Spoiler, Black Bat, the Titans and some of the Justice League members are..." Billy trailed off, feeling the blood drain from his face. "Oh." 

"Wait, I'm confused," said a man with blond hair. He instantly reminded Billy of Superman with the proud and strong way he held himself, even if his face was much more stern looking.  _"You_ were trying to teleport  _who?"_

"Oh yeah, I forgot to mention that," the bearded man who called Robin a traffic light interrupted, looking a bit sheepish. "I was gonna wait to tell you guys this, but Tim's from a different universe. Dimension. Something like that. All you need to know is that he's not from our world." 

There was a collective mumbling from the rest of the adults, some in shock and others already asking questions that were lost on Billy. Instead, all he heard was Tim's low, almost emotionless voice:

"You're telling me there is an unknown number of heroes from our dimension here and we have no way of knowing where they are?"

 

 

In Kon-El's life, there were few things that could actually hurt him. Kryptoni, gods, rips in time, magic, and not knowing if his very human teammate was alive or not were pretty high on the list. Now, he would have to add something else: being thrown through a dimensional portal via a magical lightning bolt. 

I know, right? Who'd'ev thought?

Kon growned, trying to push himself up from the grass he had fallen on. It felt nice and all, but he'd  _really_ like to know where he ended up. He could hear the heartbeat of two people nearby, one very familiar and the othernot as much. He recognized it, but he couldn't really put a face to who it was. Blinking rapidly, Kon took in his surroundings from what he could see on his knees. His ears were ringing and his vision was swimming slightly, but he could make out the humongous mansion across the green field he was on, enough to put the Wayne Manor to shame. 

"Holy shit," the half Kryptonian mumbled, hearing moans of pain from next to him. Looking to his right he saw Cassie, her blond hair a mess from it's usual orderly keep. The travel must have given her on heck of a ride as well as he could see her struggle to steady herself. Right next to her was Black Bat, someone Kon wasn't very familiar with in terms of the Bat family. She didn't say anything as her domino covered eyes met his, only tilting her head to the side.

"You... two alright?" Kon struggled to say, getting a foot under himself. 

"Yeah, head's just out of whack," Cassie replied, already standing all way up. "Where  _are_ we?"

"Fuck, if I figure it out you'll be the first person I tell," the half Kryptonian said sarcastically, pretending to ignore Cassie's annoyed look.

"Look," whispered a quiet voice. It was Black Bat, and she was pointing towards the house. But she wasn't focused on how ridiculously big it was. No.

She was focused on the small crowd that was staring at the three of them. 

 

 

Jason Todd was now officially able to say, "yep, this hurts more than dying," which was something he never thought would happen. But hey, getting struck by lightning (thanks Billy, really appreciate it) and forced from your current plane of reality would do that to you. 

At least he isn't alone, at least, he's pretty sure he isn't alone. He was still trying to figure out whether or not it was someone he knew or not, or both, but his brain wouldn't stop trying to melt out of his brain. Of his skull. Fuck, this was worse than being high on the painkillers that Alfred would occasionally give him whenever he needed to go back to the Cave for some good ole' fixing up. He was really tempted to take off the hood that was covering his face, but he wouldn't if he didn't know his location and who was around him.

 _Aright Todd, time to put those detective skills you're supposed to have to work._  

Jason slowly looked up as to not irritate his already aching head. Next to him was a body, knocked out from the looks of it. He chuckled to himself as he recognized who it was, almost grateful that he wasn't alone in... wherever they were. Steph definitely wasn't his top choice of people to be stuck with in a different dimension, but she would so just nicely. 

Now to semi figure out where they were. From a sweeping glance Jason was able to tell that they were in some dingy alleyway, complete with a horrible smelling dumpster and a family of rats squeaking at one another, not doubt discussing the two humans that suddenly appeared out of nowhere. 

"Shit," he said to himself, managing to push himself up and away from the dirty ground. He's had his fair share of blackouts in alley's, but he  _really_ didn't want to get some weird disease that only existed in this dimension. Quickly checking on Steph, he found that her breathing and heart rate were fine, but she might have a killer headache when she woke up. 

A minute later, he stood on shaky legs, feeling ready to pass out again. He shoved the feeling back as far as he could manage it, gritting his teeth again his swimming head and trembling legs. He was forming a plan in his head, but before he could put it into action, two figures suddenly dropped down from above, landing only feet away from Jason. Both were slightly beat up, one man wearing a half mask that covered his eyes and nose, but still exposing his busted lip. The other had no mask on and had a nasty bruise going on across his cheek and a bitter scowl, like he just got scolded for doing something bad. But that wasn't what caught Jason's eye, not really.

What  _did_ catch his eye? The fact that one man was dressed in a devil outfit, while the other had on a skull shirt.

Unfortunately, Jason's seen kinkier shit than this. There was nothing like accidentally becoming a voyeur because the couple in the building across from where he was decided not to close their curtains and allowed their Batman and Robin roleplay to be shown to the world. Now  _that_ had been something Jason  _never_ wanted to see, though he knew logically that shit like that happened all the time over Gotham. 

"So," Jason said dryly, already dreading the impeding hours in this universe. "Which of you guys has the blood fetish?"

 

 

"Hello? Yo masky, wake up." 

A strong hand gripped Dick Grayson's shoulder and gently shook him, causing the vigilante to thrash in the darkness that he found himself in. At first he thought his eyes were open, but in fact they were closed, and that was proven when he dragged his eyes open, squinted when his sensitive eyes were met face to face with a lamp post. Surrounding him were three people, one which was the one who shook him. All of them seemed to be giants, but that might have just been that he was sprawled out on the uncomfortable ground. 

"Is he even alive?" asked the blond of the group, squinting down at Dick. "I could possibly heal him if it's not too late."

"Of course he's alive," said the one female, her dark eyes almost emotionless, like she was casual about finding some dude passed out on the sidewalk, one that was clearly not of normal origin. But really, Dick wasn't raised to be a detective for nothing, and he could see the flicker of concern and question hidden deep. It almost reminded him of Jason-

Shit- where  _was_ he? The last thing he remembered was Billy doing his thing so that the three of them, Bruce, Billy and Dick, could go get Tim, who was stuck in a different dimension. But something went wrong, he faintly remembered, the memory of lightning flying everywhere flashing through his mind. The part of Bruce's face that he could see had been twisted into shock, like he hadn't expected anything to go wrong at all, which was  _really_ unlike his mentor, but hey, Dick wasn't one to judge.

"Jess, Danny, I think he's awake," said the man still holding his arm, his skin much darker compared to his companions. "Hey, do you need us to take you to a hospital?"

If Dick's mind wasn't in full gear before, it definitely was now. "No hospitals!" he choked out, coughing heavily from the force of his words. 

The woman snorted. "Why am I not surprised some freak in a mask doesn't want to go to the hospital?" she questioned sarcastically. "Let me guess, you're on the run from the police or some thug in an equally ridiculous costume?"

Dick felt slightly offended at her words, but at the same time he didn't have much room to talk. The man holding his arm helped him stand, the strength behind him obviously superhumanly so. At least, to him it was obvious. The grip reminded him of Superman's or Wonder Woman's; firm but gentle, afraid to hurt the person they were touching if they put to much force into the action. These three didn't seem too surprised to see someone dressed like him wandering around, so that meant they were either vigilante's themselves or just used to seeing heroes appear out of thin air.

Then again, maybe it's both.

"Odd question," Dick croaked out, feeling a bit better now that the world didn't seem so wonky. "Have any of you guys seen a vigilante with a long staff as a weapon swinging around these parts?" 

 

 

Bruce Wayne prided himself on not passing out, but then again, it was still pretty damn close. His knees tried to buckle under him, and the only reason he didn't collapse to the ground was because he managed to grab a hold of the wall next to him. His companion wasn't so lucky, crumpling to their knees with a groan of pain. Bruce took a few deep breaths to steady himself, looking around to see where he was. It seemed to be a warehouse of sorts, a large and empty one at that, one that hasn't been used in a  _long_ time.

"Uggggggg," complained his companion, and the vigilante had to stop himself from smiling when he realized who it was. Much of the League thought he was emotionless and didn't care about any of their well being, but if they bothered to pay attention they would all know he cared about them quite a bit. and that included Flash, who was currently right next to him, wallowing in his pain.

"Bats?" Flash mumbled, slowly standing up. "Where are we?"

Bruce didn't say anything for a moment, instead rolling over his thoughts in his head. He recalled the moments before being sucked into the portal Captain Marvel created, how lightning flew everywhere and the machine they were in crackled and burned. Something had clearly went wrong, even though he spent meticulous hours making sure everything was perfectly in place. 

"I believe," Bruce drawled out, pushing himself away from the wall. "That we are in a different dimension."

Flash sighed heavily. "So much for being home in time for dinner. I promised Iris I would make it." He sounded really bummed, but there was nothing they could do. They were stuck here until they could find a way back, and as far as anyone knew, that could only be achieved by Captain Marvel or whatever technology Ra's al Ghul got his hands on. It made Bruce wonder of anyone else accidentally got sent to this universe, after all, Flash was never supposed to come yet here he was-

"Hey, you two okay down there?" called a voice from above. Bruce immediately went defensive, scanning the rafters for his eyes to land on a figure dressed in a bright blue and red skin tight outfit. Using his lenses the Dark Knight was able to see the imprint of a spider on the figure's chest, much like his own bat. They dropped down in front of Flash and Batman, tilting his head to the side. "Is there a costume convention I wasn't aware of?" they joked, sounding to Bruce like a young, maybe even teenage boy. 

"Sorry, can't say we sent any invites," Flash shot right back smiling apologetically. "It is a private event after all."

The other studied Batman and Flash for a minute, his body completely relaxed like he didn't think he was in any danger whatsoever. Batman slid a batarang into his hand, ready to fight whoever this was if need be. Then he said something that Bruce Wayne would have never thought he would hear.   

"You're here for the Pebbles guy, aren't you?"       


	23. In Which Robin is Yet Again Disgraced (And Tim is Named After a Restaurant Chain)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So my finals will be everyday for the next two weeks and immediately after I'll be away at a camp for two weeks, so you guys will probably see a major decrease in writing for a little while.

Steve didn't really know what to do with the knowledge of Tim being from a different dimension. When he really thought about it, that made a  _lot_ more since than anything else they could have come up with. After all, wouldn't that dude in the black outfit be all over the news or something seeing as how the media ate up that kind of stuff? You'd think, but for once, Google had no answers to Steve's questions, which could only happen if the person he was trying to research didn't even exist in this dimension. 

The super soldier studied the two kids that had popped into existence, a sick feeling pooling in his stomach. He never liked the idea of children being used as weapons of war, but it seemed that wherever Tim came from, it was a normal practice. The one wearing a mask over his eyes had a katana strapped to his back and various other weapons and gadgets that Steve wasn't entirely sure did all over his body, and he moved smoothly as a trained fighter would. The other boy in the red sweatshirt didn't look like much, but clearly there was something more to him that Steve wasn't getting. The way he talked about teleporting people, it almost seemed like he was  _magic_ or something, even if he looked thin enough to be snapped in half with one too strong hug.

Yet even as all of this bothered him, the super soldier had to admit that there was other things that needed immediate attention first. Like how apparently there was a great potential for there to be other people from Tim's dimension stranded here on accident. If that was the case, then they would have to find every single one so that they could be sent back, but that would probably prove to be harder than they want it to be. After all, the world was a  _big_ place.

Tim had changed back into his suit at this point, though when he had done it was still a mystery to Steve. To him, it was like one moment Tim was still in the sweatpants and shirt they had put on him hours before, and the next he was making sure the belts across his chest were in place. It nearly gave him whiplash trying to figure it out. 

"Robin, Billy, I need you to help me make a list of everyone that was present and could possibly be in this dimension," he was saying, pulling the cowl over his face. "If we have that, then it should to easier to find their signatures and make contact with them."

"Quick question," interrupted Clint raising his hand like he was in a middle school classroom. "So traffic light is called Robin, right? So what the Hell do they call you?"

The boy's, Robin, Steve guessed he should call him, flared his nostrils, his mouth twisting into a mean scowl. "I am  _not_ a traffic light! And Red," he turned to Tim, the super soldier noticing the change in name, wondering if it had something to do with the cowl covering the top half of his face. "You're telling me that they know you're civilian identity and who I am but know  _yours?_ I thought you've moved passed your disgracefulness, but  _clearly_ I was wrong."

Tim sighed. "Look, long story short, Scarecrow somehow got to this dimension, doosed me in gas, and they found me. Apparently this strain of fear gas targets fears within memories, and because of that they all saw a  _lot_ more of my personal life than I ever wanted anyone to see. So yes, they know what your name is and not mine.  _And_ to answer your question," the cowl covered eyes stared at Clint, ignoring Robin's look of shock when he said the name 'Scarecrow'. "I'm Red Robin."

Silence filled the room for nearly a minute. No one moved, and Steve got them feeling that he was somehow missing something important. Tony and Clint both looked like they were about to bust out laughing, Wanda, Bruce and Sam had the most confused look on their faces, and like Steve, Thor and Bucky didn't seem to understand what was happening. 

"Did you say...  _Red Robin?"_ Sam asked slowly. Clint howled with laughter, unable to hold himself back any longer, causing the three boys to look even more confused than Steve felt, if that was even possible. Wanda shot a glare at Clint, who didn't even notice, nearly on the floor with his arms wrapped tightly around his abdomen.

"I fail to see what it so humorous," snapped Robin, somehow narrowing his eyes behind the mask. 

"Yeah, I'm kinda confused," added the boy in red, shifting from foot to foot. His skin looked paler than it had just a minute before, and to Steve he looked ready to fall asleep on his feet. He thought back to when he talked about teleporting someone, and wondered if doing that drained him of his energy. It wouldn't surprise him seeing as teleporting across dimensions couldn't be an easy feat. 

Clint suddenly stood all the way up, a giant grin on his face, and said in a sing songy voice, "Reeeed Robin."

Without even looking towards the archer, Bruce immediately sang back, "yum."

With that, Clint fell back into his delirious laughing, this time rolling on the floor. Every other Avenger also seemed to be holding back some sort of chuckle, accept for Steve and Bucky and Thor, who were just looking at each other.

"I still don't understand," Tim said with an exhausted edge to his voice.

"At least we weren't too far off when we called you Pebbles," joked Tony, but he stopped when Tim gave him a glare very similar to the one Robin gave him earlier. In fact, it looked nearly the same, just copied and pasted on a different person. Did he use that term correctly? He still didn't understand all of the lingo, but he was trying to learn.

"Billy. Da- Robin. Just. Come on. I don't have time to understand what the fuck any of that meant. Or why they sung my name." And with that Tim walked out of the room, Robin following shortly after with a twisted look on his face. Billy blinked at them for a moment before quickly running to Thor, giving the demigod a giant hug. They both had a bright smile on their faces, and even when the boy pulled away and ran after the Robin(s?) Thor was still smiling.

All of the Avengers (excluding Clint, who was gasping for breath on the floor) stared at Thor and Bucky for a few long moments. "So..." Bruce trailed off, adjusting his glasses. "Are you guys going to tell us why you both were sent to a different dimension?"

Surprisingly enough, it was Bucky who answered immediately.

"An immortal villain from that dimension decided that we looked like bad guys and accidentally brought us over."        


	24. In Which Kitty Wake's Everyone Up On a Saturday Morning (And Cass, Like Usual, Makes Everything Better)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Kitty Pryde/Shadowcat is hands down my favorite Marvel character of all time :) Also, the characters will be a mixture of everything from comics, animated cartoons, and movies.

In Charles Xavier's School for the Gifted, there were very few everyday things Kitty Pryde would consider 'normal.' Hell,  _none_ of them were even on the  _spectrum_ for 'normal,' least of all her, someone who can walk through walls and make technology explode. That was only the beginning of the crazy things that people here could do, like down Jean could move things with her mind, how Scott shot freaking lasers from his eyes, Ororo creating literal storms, and she could go on and on. 

You'd think after two years of dealing with crazy things like that (and being apart of  _literal_ hero work) that she'd be used to weird things happening, but in truth she was still just a teenager who's biggest concerns were about her homework amount and how many advanced classes she could get in to. That being said, she  _definitely_ was  _not_ prepared to wake up early on a Saturday morning to do some gardening and find that there were three random people on the front lawn.

Kitty blinked slowly at the sight, noting how they seemed to be passed out on the grass, just laying there. From what she could tell, there was a boy with a black shirt and equally black hair, a girl who was blond, and maybe another girl that she couldn't exactly see all that well. Were they new students that she's never seen before? That was unlikely, after all, Professor Xavier always introduced all of the X-Men to new students, and she doesn't remember him talking about three new mutants coming to the school, which would be  _really_ unlike him. And even if they were students, what in the world were they doing sprawled on the front lawn so early in the morning?  

The boy with black hair was moving a little bit now, trying to put his hands underneath his body. He looked  _really_ tall, she noticed, maybe even taller than Scott. He seemed to be struggling, and while Kitty was hit with the urge to go and help him, the reasonable part of her brain was telling her to get the others, especially Professor X. Something felt fishy here, and she's learned to trust her instincts.

All thoughts of gardening gone from her mind, Kitty ran back into the Mansion, gathering as many X-Men as possible. Many grumbled at her, complaining about being woken up so early, but she insisted it was an emergency. Some just rolled their eyes when they heard this, but soon enough, the teenager had Jean, Scott, Kurt, Ororo, Rogue, Logan, a reluctant Bobby, and Professor X outside. 

"Alright, what's all the fuss about?" grumbled Logan, looking like death warmed over. Knowing him, Kitty honestly wouldn't be surprised. 

Kitty pointed towards the three figures, the blond of the group steadying herself to stand up. "I came out here to do some gardening, right? And then I see  _them._ I didn't know who they are or why they were there, and I didn't think they were new students, so here we are. Something about them just feels...  _fishy,"_ Kitty finished, feeling a little awkward now that she had everyone here. The boy in black was now standing up, saying something to the blond. The last one, the one dressed in head to toe in dark clothing with a symbol on her chest that Kitty couldn't identify, was seemingly pointed at them in a perfect mirror of her. The three pairs of eyes stared at them, and the X-Men stared back.

"Are they, uh, friendly?" Kurt asked, his tail anxiously moving back and forth having broken away from its usual disguise. It was a good question, though not one anyone could answer honestly. 

"It's hard to say, Kurt," the professor replied, his hands twined together in thought. "They don't seem to have ill intent, and we'll treat them that way until proven otherwise." The boy in black slowly raised a hand and waved it cautiously, Logan growling softly under his breath. Kitty knew he didn't like unexpected visitors, especially if no one knew who they were. The boy in black almost seemed to  _react_ to Logan's growl, the hand in the air immediately tightening to a fist like he was bracing for a blow. 

"I don't know professor," Logan was saying lowly, narrowing his eyes. "Something about them doesn't feel quite _smell_ right."

But the professor acted like Logan never spoke, abruptly wheeling forward and onto the grass, towards the three people. The one dressed in all black walked forward as well, leaving their other two companions behind with a shocked look on their faces. 

"Professor, is everything okay?" quickly questioned Scott, both him and Jean jogging up to catch up with him. After a moment of hesitation, Kitty and Ororo followed as well, leaving Bobby, Kurt and Logan behind. The three of them quickly did the same, however, though Logan with a bit more caution than he would usually give. 

"Everything is fine, Scott," was all the professor would give, and the rest of them kept their mouth shut. They didn't have the first idea of what was going on, not really, but they trusted Charles. None of them had any reason not to, not after everything he's helped them with. 

As the group got closer to the trio, the blond girl and boy in black having reluctantly followed the one in all black, Kitty took note of the symbols across all of their chests, each with their own distinct and purposeful presentation. The boy's symbol was a red S that was confined inside a diamond, starkly contrasting against the darkness of his shirt. The blond girl's was what seemed to be a double W written in gold along her collarbone, and the last one had a yellow bat. Kitty wondered what these symbols were supposed to mean, after all, they must have been important if they were presented so clearly.

"This feels kinda weird," Kurt whispered to Kitty from behind her. "It's like we're heading towards a battle or something."

The teenager was inclined to agree, but said nothing in reply. She was too focused on how close they were to the trio, the one in all black still leading the other two, who seemed uncomfortable about the whole thing. All three of them seemed to almost glide over the grass, their steps purposeful and powerful even if they were out of their element. These were people who were used to going into things half blind, Kitty realized. People who were used to fighting on uneven ground.

When the two groups were only ten feet apart, the professor and the figure in all black suddenly stopped. "Hello," she said, her voice surprisingly small and wispy for someone who commanded the world with such intensity. She oozed grace and strength, though at the same time it was like she was a ghost, silent and untouchable. Despite that, her body language was perfectly friendly and open, and it was clear her companions were surprised with how straight forward she was being, eyeing the other group like they were looking for some sort of threat. 

"Hello there," the professor replied back warmly, a knowing smile on his face. Though what he knew was a complete mystery to Kitty.

The girl in all black turned slightly to her companions, simply saying, "friend."

The boy raised a confused eyebrow, eyes darting to each and every X-Men in front of him. "Friend?" he repeated, his unnaturally bright eyes lingering on Logan for a bit longer than anyone else, causing him to growl. "You uh, sure about that?"

The girl in all black nodded confidently, taking off the mask covering her face to reveal her dark eyes and pale skin underneath. "Friends."

The other two looked at her in shock, the blond's mouth slightly opened. Kitty wondered why this 'unmasking' was so shocking to them, especially since they had no mask at all on their perfectly bare faces. They weren't even  _trying_ to hide their identity of they were, though once again, it was hard to be sure. 

The girl, now with no mask like he companions, pointed to herself. "Cass," she said happily, tilting her head in an unspoken question. "You?"

The professor's smile grew, if that was even possible at this point. "I'm Charles Xavier. Welcome to the school for the Gifted. I think you'll all find it very much suitable here."     


	25. In Which Jason Has a Big Mouth (But Frank's Just Might be Bigger)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The Jon Bernthal Punisher and Charlie Cox Daredevil will forever and always be my Punisher and Daredevil.

Frank Castle would say his day (more like night, given his activities) started off normal and went downhill from there, but really, he would be lying to himself. His night became abnormal the second Red appeared on the rooftop next to him, as silent and as ninja like as possible. He hasn't seen the vigilante in what felt like years, but really, he knew it couldn't be longer than a few months. Maybe. Frank wasn't so good at keeping track of the time as it passed by, accept for a few special occasions. 

They both stood there for a few minutes, looking out over Hell's Kitchen like they were both some sort of angelic protector, and given Red's background that wouldn't be too fair off for him. But for  _Frank?_ He might as well have been a devil walking the earth. Red might have the name on the outside, but the marine felt it in his soul on the inside.

"Is there a reason you sought me out, Red?" Frank asked bluntly, still not looking directly at the Devil of Hell's Kitchen, but out of the corner of his eye he could see a busted lip, probably from beating up a mugger earlier in the night. It's not like it would really matter if he was looking at Red or not, seeing that Red was blind. It would be like raising your voice when you were talking to someone deaf: completely useless given that they can't tell the difference between one or the other. Then again, Red wasn't  _just_ blind, was he?

Frank could sense the Devil's sigh more than he hear or see it, but before he could say anything, his entire body tensed like it was attached to a live wire. The marine's been around Red long enough to know what it means, and he tensed too, bracing for something he couldn't see or hear. 

Suddenly, there was a loud popping noise and something that hissed like it was burning. Less than a minute later, someone cursed down in the alley below them. 

"Two bodies, one male, one female," Red was saying in a low voice, every other muscle completely still. Frank was tempted to look down at the alley, but he restrained himself, not wanting to give their positions if they were of unfriendly persuasion. There was a lingering smell in the air that hadn't been their before; something like the metallic burn after a thunderstorm and sulfur. "Both have multiple weapons on their bodies, including hand guns, knives, and-" Red cut himself off, taking a giant inhale of air. "And some sort of... chemical weapon that I don't know of." 

"Anything else I should know about?" Frank mumbled in an equally low voice, listening intently at the ground below, where the sound of someone shuffling around barely reached him ears. Every nerve was on edge, ready to lash out at any moment.

Red pursed his lips. "I think I might know who the guy is, but I'm not entirely sure yet."

Frank shrugged, saying, "then let's see if we have to kick some ass," and the two vigilante's smoothly jumped off the roof and into the alleyway below. Both of them landed in a crouch, observing the scene in front of them. Frank took note of the tall man only a few feet away wearing a bright red helmet that covered his whole face, the leather jacket  on his broad shoulders, the red bat across his chest, and the guns and various knives strapped to his thighs and waist. Right next o him, still on the ground, was a figure dressed in black and purple, a mask covering the bottom half of her face and hood over her head. A few strands of curly blond hair fell out of the hood as well.

The masked man tensed slightly, subtly putting himself between the girl and the two vigilantes. "So," he drawled out, his accent a mix of New York, Jersey, and something Frank wasn't able to place. "Which of you guys has the blood fetish?" 

The marine wasn't able to stop the snort that came from his mouth, instantly snapping back, "that makes you a pretty big fucking hypocrite, you know that?"

If it was possible for Frank to see the man's facial expressions, he was sure he would have a humorless smirk on his face that matched the chuckle that came from deep in his chest. "Yeah, I know that, but I'm not the one walking around with a damn skull on his chest."

"No," Frank snarled sarcastically, ignoring Red's look of warning. "You have a  _bat,_ whatever the hell  _that's_ supposed to mean."

From on the ground, the girl groaned in pain, what little of her eyes that could be seen hazy with pain. The man's fist clenched tightly, his right hand hovering over one of the hand guns on his thighs. This girl was obviously important to him, so much so that he was willing to put himself in immediate danger to protect her. He couldn't seem to care less than he was out numbered or had to watch someone else's back, every muscle was ready to defend until the last breath. It was creepily similar to the way soldiers protected their comrades in war and Frank's definitely seen enough war to be familiar with it.

"Who are you?" Red asked in his calm, reasonable sounding voice. He always talked like that when he was trying to get what he wanted by trying to be nice, but Frank had a feeling this guy wouldn't give into that kind of sweet talk. Guys like this only listened to violence, and even then it was a crap chute whether or not you actually got anything out of him or not.

"Who wants to fucking know?" he demanded, the tilt of his head suggesting he was glancing at the girl who was doing her best to look up at him. She might have been trying to say something, but it was hard to tell with her mask that nearly covered all of her face.

Red was doing that weird thing where he goes all still, just observing the world around him with uncanny intelligence no one should be able to have. The man seemed to notice it as well, the heel of his palm resting on the gun now. Frank was itching to grab his own gun that was in the belt of his pants, but he hesitated, something he probably never would have done if Red wasn't there next to him. The devil obviously thought that something out of the ordinary was going on, but what the hell did Frank know? There were too many masked freaks running around New York anymore to tell. 

"We can help her," Red replied with instead of answering the question. "No hospitals. No forcing to spill your secrets. But I think I have some crucial information you should have."

"And what would that be?" the man growled, and honestly, Frank would like to know himself. It was kind of weird that Red would have anything of interest with this random guy in an alley, but hey, what did he know?

The Devil of Hell's Kitchen shifted on his feet before creepily looking the man right into his helmet covered eyes. "Does the nickname Red mean anything to you?"           


	26. In Which Jessica Just Wants One Normal Night (And What do You Know, She's Not Gonna Get It)

You know, Jessica Jones thought she deserved a normal day for once in her life. Just one was all she was asking for, a day when clients didn't come to her office complaining about some boogeyman in their house, which didn't make  _any_ sense seeing as she was a Private Investigator and  _not_ a Paranormal Investigator. Though she didn't kind of see where the confusion might come from since both could be shortened to P.I. Still, it was stupid, not because Jessica didn't believe in ghosts (they lived in a world that was periodically attacked by aliens and gods, if anything, ghosts at least were  _present)_ but because people would say the weirdest things to her. Like how one lady was convinced a ghost was specially stalking her cat and thought that it would cause the cat to turn into a dog.

She wished she was making this stuff up, but the sad truth was that she wasn't.

And that lady wasn't even the  _beginning_ of the weirdest. Nearly every other day she had people coming to her door asking her about 'superhero shenanigans.' Like  _seriously,_ everything from people wondering if she knew Spider-Man and Daredevil (which, the Daredevil one was true, but they didn't need to know that) to them asking for her to give autographs. Jessica didn't find these things funny or amusing in any way, but Trish sure did. Then again, Trish was always telling her to, 'be more in the open,' as she put it.

So yeah, given the shitty week it's been, she was hoping for an average night with Danny and Luke. Was that too much to ask? Sure, Matt couldn't be there because of him pretending to be the reincarnation of the Devil and all, but still. One night. Not even four hours. Please world, god, whoever she had to ask. Just  _one_ damn  _night._

But  _no,_ the universe she lived in decided to hate her, because she, Luke and Danny had only walked two blocks from her apartment building a man fell from the sky. 

Once again, she wished she was making this shit up, but  _once again_ the fact of the matter was that she wasn't. 

Luke was the first of them to snap out of whatever shock they had all been in, rushing over and kneeling down over the man in concern. Danny and Jessica quickly followed, Jessica noticing how the man was dressed in a skintight black and blue bodysuit that left  _way_ too little to the imagination. There was a design in blue on his chest that she couldn't quite make out, but the domino mask over his eyes and cheekbones suggested her was a vigilante of sorts. Absolutely  _fantastic._ Like they didn't have hundreds of those roaming New York at this point. Seriously, was this city like the only place heroes were allowed to inhabit? Why not Los Angeles or Seattle or something? Why was it always New fucking York?

"What the hell," was all Jessica was able to remark, finding it unbelievable that the one place this guy decided to show up in was the alleyway they had taken as a shortcut. It was amazing a wizard didn't just appear from the heavens and proclaim that this man would give them a magical quest that revealed all the secrets of the universe. In all honesty, that might be more explainable than the other shit that went on in her life.

"He seems to be really hurt," Luke said, which prompted Jessica to sarcastically think,  _wow, you think?_ before the man quickly continued with, "hello? Yo masky, wake up." He softly shook the masked man, who slowly opened his eyes... or, what Jessica  _assumed_ to be his eyes. All she could see were solid white where eyes were  _supposed_ to be, but not much else. That couldn't be right, could it?

"Is he even alive?" questioned Danny, who was pretty much parroting Jessica's thoughts at that moment.The whites were the only thing on this guy moving, so it was a possibility. "I could possibly heal him if it's not too late."

As interesting as it would be to see the glowy hand thing again, Jessica already knew it wasn't worth it. While for a split second she wondered if the man was dead, she quickly determined that he was probably just dazed. After all, he was still breathing and reacting to some the sound around him, and as far as they could see there weren't any immediate injuries they should be aware of.

"Of course he's alive," she said, her eyes darting to the way his arms rippled as they began to move. Man, that suit really left not a  _single_ muscle out, did it? She might as well be looking at the masked man's insides, which couldn't have been comfortable at all. How did he even  _move_ in that thing? Did it even have simple armor that would protect him from injury? Was she really criticizing the fashion of a man that teleporting into thin air? Yes, yes she was.

"Jess, Danny, I think he's awake," Luke said, gesturing to how the masked man was beginning to move more. "Hey, do you need us to take you to a hospital?"

That  _definitely_ got the masked man's attention, yelling out, "no hospitals!" before being consumed in a fit of harsh coughs. Jessica would have felt more sympathy for him, but knowing these vigilante types, they tended to be crazier than the average New Yorker, and instead snorted at his distress.

"Why am I not surprised some freak in a mask doesn't want to go to the hospital? Let me guess, you're on the run from the police or some thug in an equally ridiculous costume?"

Even with the mask covering his eyes, Jessica could perfectly interpret the emotion the masked man had; slightly confusion and maybe even acceptance, like he wasn't even going to argue about what she said. Luke helped him stand up, steadying his wavering form. How Danny managed to keep silent this entire time was a mystery to her, but hey, she'd take the small things in life. 

The masked man seemed to study all of them for a split moment before finally saying, "odd question. Have any of you guys seen a vigilante with a long staff as a weapon swinging around these parts?" 

Jessica sighed to herself thinking that they should just drop the masked man off at a mental institution or something. "You seriously think that with all the crazy fucks that swing around this city that we'd pick up on the  _one_ crazy fuck you're talking about?" she said a moment before Luke replied with, "yeah, I think so." She raised an eyebrow at the man, who just shrugged when he saw the look on her face.

"What, it's not like I don't pay attention to news around the city or anything. Plus, if this guy's talking about who I think he's talking about, then he just busted some cocaine ring up in Harlem."

"Great," the masked man exclaimed, somehow sounding enthusiastic and confused all at the same time as he he stepped away from Luke on his own. "Now, if you could just point me in the right direction and all be-"

"Where are you from?" Danny suddenly interjected, his tone completely serious. "You aren't from around here." It wasn't a question. It was a statement.

Jessica stared at Danny, trying to figure out what he was playing at, but the masked man had gone totally still, the whites of his mask eerily reflecting the street light from above. "I'm sorry," he drawled slowly, backing away from the three of them like he was expecting a fight to break out. "I have no idea what you're talking about."

"Oh, I think you do, birdy," abruptly came a voice from further into the alley, making masked man become very still. The other three were simply staring into the shadows that had started to move, the shadows molding into a man with an orange and blue outfit, katannas, guns, and dozens of knives along his muscular body. An eyepatch covered on of his eyes, and a chilling smirk danced across his face. The sight of him instantly put Jessica on edge, and she could tell Danny and Luke felt the same way about him.

"Slade," the masked man sighed, sounding like he was delivering the worst news ever. "What the  _hell_ are you doing here?"          


	27. In Which Peter is Not As Confused (But It's Pretty Close)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Alright everyone, this will probably be the last chapter you guys get before I go off to camp for a couple weeks. Enjoy~

Peter Parker was starting to think that the mini warehouse district was cursed or something. Once again, he had been using it as a shortcut to get across Manhattan faster, but almost immediately his Spidey Sense started going off, giving him this sharp and dizzying feeling of deja vu. Without thinking about it, he swung towards the feeling rather than run away like he should have, rather than calling Mr. Stark and telling him something was wrong, like he _also_ should have. Alas, for the second time in the span of only a couple weeks, Peter found himself inside a strange warehouse for seemingly no reason. 

Yeah, that was new. For a good thirty seconds or more Peter had  _no_ idea what he was doing there or what he was looking at, like his brain had suddenly decided to stop giving him input about the world around him. Once he finally snapped himself out of that weird state, it took him another minute to find why his Spidey Sense had gone off in the first place. 

From high in the rafters, Peter took in the sight of two costume cladded figures, not too unlike his own, though one was covered head to toe in blacks and grays. From this distance the teenager was able to make out what looked to be long ears on the head of the dark figure, as well as the symbol of a bat covering his chest. The other one, the one that seemed to be wallowing in pain on the ground, was dressed in bright red with yellow and white accents on his calves, elbows, and sides of his head. It very much reminded Peter of lightning, though it was too hard to tell from here.

They were talking to one another, the teenager realized, humming softly to himself. He had no idea what, seeing as while he had enhanced senses he couldn't hear faint sounds from really far away like Mr. Wolverine could- which would be  _really_ cool-

_Focus, Parker._

Yep, focus, he could do that. The point was, they were talking about something, and from the looks of it, whatever they were talking about wasn't exactly  _pleasant._ The red one was gradually picking himself up off the ground, a pouty frown present on the lower half of his face. His dark companion had no such emotion from what Peter could see, but he did think he detected a faint hint of amusement.

The teenager tilted his head to the side, studying the Bat-Dude (which was going to be his name until he got something else). Something about him just felt...  _familiar,_ like another wave of deja vu was hitting him. The way he held himself, was covered in little contraptions and gadgets, the dramatic cape, the way he observed the environment, everything was screaming at Peter that he's seen this man before. Or, at least, someone very  _similar_ to this man. Either way, it currently was stumping him. It always fascinated him how his brain could easily compute complicated math equations and formulas with little to no effort while simple tasks like remembering a person was a huge struggle.

Sigh. Maybe he should get a brain study done or something.

_Focus, Parker. You need to be medicated or something._

The weird second voice in his subconscious was probably right, but that was a discussion for another day. Right now, he needed to put all of his attention on these two... should he call them vigilantes? He's never seen them before, but that could be because they were from a different city or something along those lines. But even then, you'd think there'd be  _something_ on the news about a dude dressed as a bat and a dude dressed in such a bright red. Like seriously, Peter knew he had no room to talk, but that shade of red was just  _screaming_ to be seen. 

The question was what in world he was going to do with these two, though. Sure, his attention is locked onto them... but what did that mean? Did he stalk them until they revealed what they were doing? Knock them out and call the police for them to deal with? Neither of those options seemed right, so the teen opted for the one other thing he reasonably think of.

"Hey, you two okay down there?" 

Both figures tensed at the sound of his voice, the bat guy slightly crouching as his eyes swept through the rafters much faster and smoother than most. It barely took ten seconds for Bat-Dude to find him, and Peter found that even though his eyes were hidden by a cowl that it was probably the most terrifying stare he's ever seen in his short life. And honestly, that was probably saying a lot seeing that he's faced a multitude of psychotic baddies that have tried to kill him on dozens of occasions.  

Attempting to hide how uncomfortable he was, the teen gracefully fell to the ground without a sound a little bit away from the other two. "Is there a costume convention I wasn't aware of?" the teenager quipped, hoping that he was coming off as friendly. He didn't know if these guys were bad or not, but his gut told him that while strange, these were good people. Even if one absolutely terrified him and still reminded him of someone. 

"Sorry, can't say we sent any invites," immediately replied the one in red, smiling in a way that reminded the teen of Mr. Stark when he caught Peter doing something weird, like he wasn't entirely sure how to react but knew he had to. "It is a private event after all."

Peter studied the two, but especially the bat dude. His brain was pretty much hitting itself against the sides of his skull in an attempt to figure out who he reminded the teen of, which was a funny visual the more he thought about it. Huh, metaphorically hitting his head against a wall, just like that guy who was fighting the sword guy and Mr. Stark and the Avengers were-

_Holy shit._

"You're here for the Pebbles guy, aren't you?" Peter blurted out without thinking, his mouth acting before he could fully process the thought. He didn't know why he thought these two were _looking_ for Pebbles, but something about it sounded right, and he's learned to trust his instincts. Maybe it was the way the two were just  _here_ in this random warehouse for no good reason, and how even  _they_ seemed confused about why they were there.

The bat dude went totally still, his eyes practically  _burning_ the teen with how intense they were. Geez, if that's what it's like with the cowl  _on,_ he's hate to see how it is to be on the wrong side of that stare when the cowl's  _off._ It must be like looking a god in the face and begging for mercy. Or something.

"Who the fuck is-" the one in red started, but was cut off by a bat dude raising his hand. The red on scowled but didn't protest, the edges of his body becoming ever so slightly blurry, like he was turning into static or something. 

"What does Pebbles look like?" the bat dude all bu demanded, suddenly becoming a  _much_ more intimidating figure than before, if that was even possible. Just the intensity of it alone caused Peter to step back, every muscle taunt and yelling  _abort abort abort._ He should run and get Mr. Stark, yeah-

"He uh, wears this cape and cowl thing that kinda makes him look like a bird if you look at him too fast, there's an X across his chest, oh, and he carries around this staff thing that's taller than me- which isn't saying much really-"

"Red Robin?" the red one interrupted, looking a  _lot_ more optimistic all of a sudden. The name made the teen pause, but like all things, his mouth reacted before his brain caught up.

"Yuuuum."             


	28. In Which Billy Does His Best (And Steve Doesn't Understand the DC Universe)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> He everyone, I'm back! I've also started a new fic that's Tim centric like this one, called See What I've Become, so if you're interested, go check it out! It's much darker than anything I've ever written before, but I've had the idea for it for months now and I just decided to go ahead and write it. Anyway, enjoy!~

Billy Batson didn't know if he should be grateful that Batman figured out he could teleport between dimensions or not. On one hand, it's helped them find where Red Robin (should Billy just call him Tim at this point?) was, but at the same time, he's pretty sure that his mortal body could only take so many trips before it decided to give out completely. Not that he would say that or anything. They had other, more pressing things to worry about then the boy potentially combusting into a few million magical particles. 

Yep. That part could  _definitely_ wait.

At least he got to see Thor again. When the demigod and his companion Bucky had first appeared in Fawcett City a few months ago, Billy, or more specifically Captain Marvel, had been the first to find them. The boy and Thor instantly made a connection with each other that neither could properly explain, but Billy had a feeling it had something to do with them both being directly connected to the gods. Sure, technically Thor was a literal god, but it was also a bit more complicated than that. They both had the power of lightning and thunder under their skins, knew what it was like to be one with the sky. They might as well have been the same person, that is, if Billy was really tall and suddenly had blond hair they might as well have been the same person. 

A few hours after Billy teleported way more people than intended to this other dimension, the boy was sitting on a counter and swinging his feet in random intervals. Both Damian and Tim have been talking about sciencey things that he didn't really understand (something about the multiverse and all that good jazz). Billy knew it was a given when you were in a room full of Bats, but it kinda unnerved him with just how much  _knowledge_ they had. The boy was bright, but he was also not a genius like they all seemed to be, which was one of the main reasons he was usually so awkward around them, especially when he was only Billy Batson and not Captain Marvel. There was no possible way for him to keep up with whatever they were talking about, so he just faded into the background and waited to be useful again. He's already given Tim the list of those who were in the Batcave when everything happened, but after that, there wasn't much else he could do. He  _could_ turn back into Captain Marvel so that the wisdom of Solomon could kick in, but in all honesty, Billy didn't know if the Wizard could reach him from an entirely different dimension.

Maybe he should have mentioned that beforehand.

Sure, the Wizard's never failed him before, but Billy's always been in the same universe when he called on the Wizard. It was slowly eating at him bit by bit, but like before, he didn't say anything. 

Just as Tim was saying something about Ra's al Ghul coming over to this dimension (giving the boy shivers for just mentioning the immortals  _name,_ but hey, could you really blame him?) one of the adults from earlier walked in. He kinda looked like Thor with his blond hair and blue eyes, but this man was slightly stockier and shorter, his posture tense and perfect while the demigod's had been relaxed and open.

Tim instantly stopped his train of thought when he saw the man enter the room, his greyish blue eyes werry and defensive. Damian noticed as well, huffing to himself and crossing his arms as the man's presence. 

"Is there something you need, Steve?" Tim asked tiredly, not even bothering to hid his annoyance. It made Billy wonder just what had happened before he and Damian showed up, something that Tim had yet to provide them with even when they questioned him about it. The vigilante simply brushed their questions aside, barely even acknowledging them before moving onto the next topic. 

The man, Steve as Tim had called him, shifted his eyes to Billy, seeming to linger on the boy's large sweater. Billy fidgeted under his stare, tugging on the edge of the sweater. He didn't like the way Steve looked at him, something like pity and maybe even anger. How someone could do that at the same time he didn't know, but Billy was tired of being pitied on. He was nearly every day by the people of Fawcett City, and he didn't need it here in a different dimension that knew nothing about him.

"More of a quick question than anything," Steve replied cautiously, looking over at Tim and relieving the weight of his eyes from Billy's shoulders. It made the boy unconsciously relax, not noticing that he was so tense before.

"Make it quick then," Damian said with his usual air of impatience. "As you can see, we were in the middle of something."

Steve hesitated for a moment, pursing his lips together in thought. "Are there many children like you were you're from?"

Billy blinked in confusion, not entirely understanding the question. "What do you mean?" he questioned, racking his brain for what Steve could possibly mean by 'children like you.' Children who were heroes? With powers? Really smart? Some combination of all three?

Tim sighed. "He means are kids who regularly beat up bad guys. There are pretty much no sidekicks here, and very few heroes are below the age of eighteen," he informed, his eyes never once leaving the man's. "And yes, there are many kids like us where we're from. It might not be like that here, but we need them," Tim said bluntly.

"How on Earth does anything get done around here if there are no sidekicks?" Damian demanded, sounding like the very idea was preposterous. Billy had to agree, after all, without sidekicks there wouldn't be anyone to take over the mantle of the hero they were with, and there would be too many villians for the heroes to take one alone. Sidekick's weren't exactly  _wanted,_ but they were a necessary evil to make sure Earth stayed in one piece.

Steve's muscles clenched at Damian's words. "Children's shouldn't be forced into wars," he said lowly. "Especially not ones where you get as many scars as you do."

Billy had the feeling he wasn't talking to all of them at that point, but his mind still flashed to the lightning shaped scars that ran across his collarbone and down his back. It was one of the few marks that appeared on his mortal body, one that basically branded him as the Wizard's Champion. To the boy, it was just apart of himself now, not really anything to give much thought to.

Tim's eyes narrowed, and he walked forward till he was only a few feet away from the man. Steve might have been nearly a foot taller and built like a mountain, but Tim was naturally intimidating in the way all Bats were. Billy knew what it was like to be on the other end of one of the infamous batglares, and he coward back a little bit, trying to make himself smaller. It was times like this where he wished he could be Captain Marvel all the time, mainly so that adults would take him seriously.

"Look, I'm going to say this once, and I won't repeat myself," Tim growled, looking Steve right in the eye. "You don't get to use the knowledge you were never supposed to know in the first place to act all high and mighty or some shit. Yes, where we come from kids and teens become heroes to help out the adults, yes we are thrown into the same high stakes situations as any other hero, but that doesn't make us less than them. Where we come from, it's a necessity. Here, it's about men taking on themselves, there, it's about men taking on gods. Without sidekicks, the world would be long gone. And another thing," Tim pointed it himself. "I  _chose_ to be who I am today. I knew the risk. I knew what the struggle would be. But I  _didn't care._ I never wanted to be this, but it in the end, it was my choice, and now, I wouldn't changed that choice for anything."

Tim sighed, taking a step back from Steve. At that exact same moment, one of the devices he and Damian had been messing with started beeping, gaining the attention of everyone in the room. A small smirk appeared on Tim's face as he turned back to the blond man, pulling the cowl back over his head.

"Now, if you don't have anything else to say, we have some heroes to find."         


	29. In Which Kon Struggles (And Logan Isn't Making it Any Better)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the slight delay! We went to the beach for the 4th, so I didn't have access to a computer.

Kon wasn't really sure what to make of their current situation. Logically, he should be happy that he, Cassie, and Black Bat (Cass?) weren't being attacked by this dimensions residences, but he still didn't know how to react to the fact that Black Bat literally gave up her secret identity within the first five minutes. Black Bat, who was one of apart of the most secretive family in the universe and who Kon didn't even know the name of until now.

Just. What the fuck.

The half Kryptonian awkwardly shifted in the chair he was sitting in, hands clenched tightly together as his eyes darted around the room. Someone, probably the lady with bright red hair that kinda reminded him of Bart, had placed a steaming cup of coffee in front of him. Kon hadn't touched it in the time its been there, partially because he didn't drink coffee, but mostly because it reminded him of Tim and his caffeine addiction. Usually, that discussion made him roll his eyes and rant about how no non-meta being should be able to consume that much coffee, but now it just made him sad.

Kon clenched his hands tighter, once again attempting to listen for Tim's heartbeat. This would be the fifth time he's done this in the short period of time they've been here, but so far he's been unsuccessful. It wasn't that his hearing was refusing to work or anything, but this world seemed to almost...  _vibrate_ at a different frequency than he was used to. It made listening to things much harder to do than normal, let alone pick up on something as quiet as a heartbeat. The half Kryptonian scowled to himself, allowing himself to feel a little bit of worry for Tim. All of the Titans worried about the Bat, even when he wasn't forcefully teleported across dimensions. As the only human on the team, they were bound to feel a little bit more protective of him, even if Kon was positive Tim could kick all of their collective asses and then some. 

Cassie's elbow suddenly jabbed into his side, making the half Kryptonian's eyes dart over to her. But the Amazon wasn't looking back. Instead, she was staring straight in front of her like nothing ever happened. Kon raised an eyebrow, slowly looking to where her eyes were, only to be met face to face with that older guy in the wheelchair, the one Black Bat had befriended so quickly. What was his name, Xavier or something like that?

The man's expression seemed kind enough, but Kon was more worried about the guy standing next to Xavier, the one that actually  _growled._ He smelled really weird compared to everyone else, like metal and rot all mixed into one. It wasn't a very  _pleasant_ smell to say the least. 

Xavier was looking at Kon in a sorta familiar way, like he asked a question and was waiting for him to answer. The thing was, the half Kryptonian had  _no_ idea what the question was, which was  _also_ sorta familiar. This happened way more than Kon would admit to, but this time, he had a genuine reason not to be paying 100% attention, and wasn't just because he was bored out of his mind.

"Well kid, you gonna answer the Professor?" the weird smelling man growled at him. It took  _all_ of Kon's training and calming techniques to not just blow the dude up with heat vision right then and there, all of his instincts screaming that this guy was dangerous. But that would more than likely ruin whatever truce this was and not help them find Tim in the long run.

Thankfully, the teenage girl next to the growling man butted her elbow against his side, much like Cassie did to him, and that seemed to calm him down. This girl also had something weird about her, her smell fading in and out of existence like she was some sort of shadow. In fact, now that Kon thought about it,  _everyone_ here had something strange about them. At first Kon thought it was just that they were in a different dimension, but everyone had a unique difference the half Kryptonian could pick up on. The boy with the German accent smelled like fur even though he wasn't, the guy with the sunglasses had a ringing sound coming from him, the lady with white hair smelled like ozone, and on and on and on. It was really weird.

Even more weird he realized, was the fact that none of them looked all that shocked or concerned that three random people just appeared out of nowhere. Well, none of them accept the growly dude, of course.

"Sorry, didn't hear the question," Kon said stiffly. "I was... focused on something else."

Kon felt Cassie sigh, and was tempted to shove her like she did before. I mean, he was trying to find Tim for Pete's sake! Wasn't he allowed a little bit of peace? She would be doing the exact same thing if she could, and really, Kon  _wished_ she could. Maybe the Amazon would be able to help him figure out what the Hell was wrong with his hearing.

The professor didn't look too unhappy about him not paying attention, a knowing smile instead crossing his face. It made Kon want to punch him in and face and simultaneously smile right back. Xavier had an odd smell too, like the air right around him was slightly charged with... something. Tim would probably know what it was, but he sure didn't.

"I asked, what are the three of you doing so far from home?"

The half Kryptonian's eyes widened at that, and he could tell that Cassie was now stiff next to him. Clearly, that had  _not_ been what the professor had asked before. Kon suddenly became very aware of Xavier's heartbeat, how steady and calm it was. His hearing, which had been going slightly crazy before, was now perfectly fine like he was used to.

_Don't worry,_ said something in his head, something that was not Kon's own voice.  _You can trust me._

Usually, the half Kryptonian didn't believe shit like that. especially if it was from a different voice inside his head. But for whatever reason... he did this time.

"We're looking for a friend," came from Kon's mouth before he could find a reason to stop them. "He's been a real pain in the ass for the last few months, not that he isn't anyways."

The professor chuckled at that. "Well, let me help you with that." Before Kon could ask what the Hell that meant, his hearing expanded beyond what it had been before. It felt like someone was at the controls, guiding him to where he wanted to go, adjusting the frequency so that everything was crystal clear. He could hear the conversations of people halfway across the world in Europe and the clinking of porcelain in Asia, but that's not what he was looking for.

The one at the controls seemed to realize this.  _Heartbeats,_ Kon told them, pushing towards the gentle rhythm he used to identity those closest to him.  _I need to find his heartbeat._

The world focused at that one sound, all of them flooding his brain, but the half Kryptonian wasn't overwhelmed. Even with millions of heartbeats running through his ears, he could pick up Tim's like it was the easiest thing in the world. And now that he could finally fucking  _hear,_ it was easier than that, too. 

Tim's heartbeat became the only thing in his mind, strong and repetitive. Kon couldn't help but laugh at that, happiness running through his veins.

"What is it?" Cassie questioned, her muscles tense like she was about to go into battle.

Black Bat had a giant smile on her face, and she replied with, "Tim."

Kon nodded, unable to keep his eyes off of the professor. 

"Yeah, I found Tim. Turns out the bastard decided to stay in a building that was lined in a material that I nearly couldn't hear through." He tilted his head to the side, thinking about something he heard Tim say while he was listening to his heartbeat. "You wouldn't happen to know anything about the Avengers, would you?"           


	30. In Which Steph Has The Worst Timing (And Claire Once Again Has to Deal With Nearly Dead Vigilantes)

Jason probably shouldn't have agreed to follow the two dudes in a skull and a devil outfit, but hey, devil dude seemed to know Tim and he promised medical attention for Steph. If worse comes to worse, he could always just put a few bullets in their legs and run. He was strong, and he could carry Steph's ass outta there even if it was inconvenient, much like he was right now.

The two dudes lead Jason to an apartment building that looked mostly abandoned and up to the top floor where there was only one door, but before either of them could open the door a woman appeared in the doorway, looking exhausted and really done with whatever shit she hadn't heard yet. She took one look at Jason and the girl hauled over his shoulder and sighed, waving them in without a question. The skull guy glanced at the devil one, saying, "I know she's used to this but I thought she's at least say something about our guests."

The devil dude chuckled awkwardly. "Lets just say I did something similar a few weeks ago," he said before walking into the apartment. 

The skull guy looked back at Jason, and he shrugged. "No surprised, honestly," skull guy mumbled under his breath, following after devil dude. Jason did as well, not entirely sure what to think about this whole thing. Steph's only input was a breathy groan that could have meant anything from 'what the fuck,' to, 'those dudes are hot.' Jason was leaning towards the second one.

The inside of the apartment was simple and tighty, just the way Jason liked it. The woman he saw from before already had out medical supplies and was putting on a pair of latex gloves. Whether or not the medical supplies were out before their arrival or after remained a mystery to Jason, and either seemed pretty likely. She looked like she knew how to handle herself around injuries, and while she probably wasn't Alfred, she would be enough to at least treat Steph.

"Alright," she was saying, putting her hands on her hips. "I need you to put... whatever her name is down right here," she gestured to the bed. Jason slowly walked towards it, finding himself tightening his grip on Steph. He didn't like trusting people he didn't even know the names of, but he knew that he wasn't qualified to help with whatever was wrong with Steph. She took the... _trip_ between dimensions rather harshly for whatever reason. She needed help, and if that meant trusting them... well, like he said before, he still had enough bullets to take them all out.

Jason gently put Steph onto the bed, moving to the other side so that he would be out of the woman's way. The Bat crossed his arms, staring at the other two men with a glare that they couldn't see. It was actually getting kinda stuffy in the helmet, so with a second of hesitation he took it off, the white part of his bangs resting in front of his red domino. Skull guy looked surprised that Jason did that, but didn't do anything but sit down in one of the chairs by the table.

"You can call me Hood," Jason told them, the whites of his domino going from the one man to the other. His gaze lingered on the devil dude, remembering what he said earlier. "You said that you know Red?"

The devil dude tilted his head to the side, nodding in some creepy way that Jason didn't like at all. It didn't help that those red eyes on the devil mask never actually  _looked_ at him properly, maybe just an inch or two off from his face. The dude was  _aware_ of his surroundings, sure, but something was off about him. 

"Yeah, I think so. We were in a situation very similar to this a little while ago," the devil dude told Jason. From the other side of the bed where the woman was checking Steph's pulse, she snorted.

"If it's the guy I'm thinking of, then he had  _no_ self preservation instincts. He was literally trying to sneak out not two hours after he got here. How he was awake in the first place I still don't know, but I wouldn't trust him to take care of himself without a 24/7 butler _forcing_ him to," she said, shaking her head. Jason couldn't help the small smile that quirked on his face, thinking about Tim and his stubborn ass trying to lip out of here. It was very easy to do. 

"You aren't too far off with the butler thing," Jason chuckled. Usually he would be a little more cautious about giving away their identities, but this was an alternate dimension that didn't have anyone from theirs, at least, according to Captain Marvel before everything went to shit. If that was the case, there was no reason they couldn't be a little more lax, right? It wasn't like any of them were staying here for long.

Huh. How many of  _them_ were there? Only Nightwing, Batman and Captain Marvel were supposed to come here to find Tim, but now he and Steph were here, and that meant more probably were as well.  _That_ would be interesting. 

That also lead Jason to  _another_ question: were Bucky and Thor around here somewhere? If they were, maybe they could help him and Steph find everyone else. If anything, they  _definitely_ know this dimension better than he does. What team did they say they were apart of? The Avengers or something like that?

Abruptly and without any warning, Steph shot up from the bed, her eyes dazed and unfocused. "You talkin' bout my ex?" she demanded groggily before collapsing down onto the sheets again. The woman looked stunned, her mouth opening and closing like she was trying to figure out how to respond to that. Jason busted out laughing at the looks on the other two men's faces, glad that they could be exposed to the one and only Stephanie Brown.

The woman slowly looked up at him. "Who is this again?"

Jason shrugged, trying to calm down his laughing. "She's called Spoiler, and yes, she and Red were dating at one point. Believe me when I say that's the least crude or confusing thing she's ever said. She's quite the firecracker."

The woman sighed, turning back to her work. "Lets just hope there isn't more of you hanging around somewhere."

Jason rubbed the back of his neck, glancing between the three in the room, wondering how he could break it to them. "Well, you see, about that..."

The skull guys eyebrows raised, like he was asking for Jason to continue. "You both teleport out of thin air into a random alley in New York and Red here decides to help you, I think you owe us some explanation about what's going on."

Oh well, might as well rip off the band aid.

"We're from a different dimension. We came here looking for Red. Also, there is an unknown amount of people from  _my_ dimension in _this_ dimension." 

There was silence. Then, another sigh came from the woman, who really  _did_ look done with everyone's shit.

"You know what, I'm not even sure why I asked. It's not like it's  _surprising_ at this point." She looked at Jason again, and in that moment, she reminded him of Alfred. "Let's hope your friends don't get into as much trouble as that Red guy did, because if they did,  _our_ dimension's gonna have a big mess to clean up after."       


	31. In Which Slade is More Friend Than Foe (But Who Knows, He's Probably Just Messing With Dick Again)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey everyone! So I have the feeling I've getting kinda close to the end of this fic, but it will probably take a bit longer to get through than you think. Marching band season is coming up along with the beginning of my dance season, so things are about to get CRAZY. I probably won't sleep much. School's probably gonna be a bitch. Oh well, I'll get through it and (hopefully) find the time to finish this and continue my other fics and ideas. Anyway, enjoy!

Dick unsheathed his escrima sticks, pressing the buttons on the side to start up a current of electricity. He had a slight hunch that some of their villains had made their way to this dimension, a hunch he shared with Bruce before everything went wrong, but now it seemed it was confirmed. It made sense that Deathstroke would be apart of all this, especially since the mercenary would just do whatever was needed to be done for the highest bidder. If Dick could figure out who Deathstroke was working for, it could help everyone out a  _lot._

"Uh, do you want to explain who this guy is or should we just go ahead and beat em' up?" asked the woman from behind Dick, the sound of her knuckles cracking echoing through the alley. She seemed surprisingly calm considering everything that was happening, along with her friends, but by now Dick's decided that these probably weren't normal civilians. If they were, their first instinct most likely would have been to call the police or to run away.

Deathstroke held up his hands, a sign of peace that instantly put Dick on edge. Slade didn't just walk into a fight stacked against him without a reason or a plan, so what the hell was he doing? Why immediately show himself instead of stalking Dick until he was alone or vulnerable? Nothing was making a lick of sense here. 

The mercenary walked towards the four casually, and the vigilante tensed, ready to strike, but before he could, Deathstroke said, "I'm not here to fight you, birdy, so just hear me out for a moment. Oh, and tell your new friends to calm down so they don't get themselves killed."

One of the men, the taller one if memory serves correctly, snorted. "I'd like to see you try, old man. No one's been able to do it before," he said casually, and when Dick glanced to the side he saw the man simply roll his shoulders back, a blank look on his face. Dick knew the look. It was the look of an experienced fighter that wasn't talking shit and was ready to kick ass. Unfortunately, Dick was always too friendly with the criminals to ever master that look, but on the rare occasions that Jason had his hood off, you could see it clearly on his face. It was downright terrifying, even if you happened to be on his side of the fight. 

Slade just shrugged at the suggestion barely glancing at the man who basically told him he was unkillable. Not the greatest thing to say to the world's (at least, his world) greatest mercenary, but he got points for style. 

"What do you  _want_ Slade?" Dick demanded. "Who are you working for now?"

The mercenary tisked, tilting his head to the side. "I'm not here to answer questions, birdy. I'm here to let you know that your babybird is nice and safe- for now." In an instant Dick was right on the older man, escrima sticks just nearly not touching his neck. A low anger simmered in his stomach at the thought of finally finding Tim and this fucker being the one thing in the way for that to happen. Damn  _Slade._

"Where. Is. He."

Slade shrugged again, not at all phased by the electricity that could easily knock him out not even an inch from his skin. "All you need to know is Ra's and all the villains he's recruited over here are going to attack some big tall tower in twenty minutes. Tick tock, birdy." He stepped away from Dick, only then looking at their other guests. "They should know where the tower is. It's quite lucky you ended up near them, isn't it? It's almost like fate brought you together." 

Before Dick could demand more answers, the mercenary simply disappeared into thin air like he was never even there in the first place. The vigilante dropped his escrima, cursing harshly in Romani under his breath. He turned to his three (saviors? guides?) and asked them, "so where the  _Hell_ is this giant building he's talking about?" He didn't even acknowledge the glowing fist on the blond guy, because nope, there was too much going on right now (Tim was in too much  _danger)_ to be worried about some glowing fist. 

"Hold on, I think you owe us an explanation on who that was and who this... Ra's guy is," glowing fist said, causing Dick to growl. He honestly didn't really even care about the whole secret identity thing anymore, because fuck it, he was in a different dimension and if what Slade said was correct then he's gonna need as much help as he can get. Nevermind that he had no idea where he was or how to navigate this place, or even how many of his own dimensions residents were here in the first place. 

"I'm Nightwing," he snapped. "That was Slade Wilson, AKA Deathstroke, and where I'm from he's the most feared mercenary in the world." He cut off any questions from the three, piling on through. "Ra's is an evil immortal megalomaniac whose mission is to take over the world using mainly eco terrorist tactics and ninjas. I'm looking for my brother, who is in the building Slade was talking about. Also, all these people, including myself, are from a different dimension. Look, I really want to find my brother and everyone else that ended up here before I leave, thank you very much, and it seems now that I have approximately 18 and a half minutes before they're attacked. Now, I'll ask again: where the  _fuck_ is this building he's talking about?"  

The three just stared at him for a long moment, so long that Dick was just about to say fuck it and look for it himself. But before he could do that, the woman sighed and looked to the sky. "On night," she said. "That's all I asked for." She looked back to the vigilante, walking towards him until they were only a few feet away. Her friends looked ready to protest, but didn't say anything.

"Come on, lets go," she said with an annoyed edge to her tone. She began walking out of the alley, and all the men were quick to follow, but Dick really had to ask:

"Where are we going?"

"The only giant building where villains here regularly attack," she replied simply, like it was the most obvious thing ever. 

"You can't be serious, Jess," came the guy with the glowing fist (which was no longer glowing, just so you know). "Are you sure about this?"

"As sure as I am about anything." Her dark eyes found Dick's, and he could tell that at that moment she wished to be anywhere else than right there. "Buckle up, pretty boy. We're going to see the Avengers."  


	32. In Which Tony Has Excellent Timing (But Peter, As Usual, Does Not)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> sorry this is short, but its more set up than anything in order to get everyone in the same place.

For a solid minute, there was complete and utter silence in the warehouse, the Flash and Batman staring at this child (because he was definitely a child, and no Batman wasn't thinking about adopting him (okay maybe he was)) dressed as a spider who just literally sang "yuuuum" at them after hearing Red Robin's name. The spider stared right back, not moving a muscle like he was terrified that he was about to be shot by the other two heroes.

Just before anyone could break the tension steadily building in the room, the sound of a phone ringing broke it for them. The spider guy jumped easily 15 feet into the air in surprise, startling both Flash and Batman. Just as the spider guy hit the ground again (once again not making a sound, which was in  _no_ ways fair because he didn't even look like he was trying) he brought out a phone that was hidden in the pockets of his suit. He didn't even look at the caller before answer, meekly saying, "hello?"

_"Peter!"_ yelled the voice on the other side, speaking so loudly that Flash and Batman didn't even have to strain to hear him.  _"A bunch of ninja-people-things- are attacking Avengers Tower. We need your help and- shit! Tim-!"_

The line went dead, and Batman swore that even with the full mask that the spider guys face just made a terrified look. There was no way that was natural, was it? Solid objects weren't supposed to be so dynamic and emotional.

But he didn't have time to wonder about the aliveness of something that shouldn't be alive, not when he heard Tim's name on the other side of that phone call. Sure, there were probably thousands of people named Tim in this universe, but he doubted very few got into as much trouble as his Tim did. The kid (well, he wasn't a kid anymore, was he?) was practically a magnet for trouble, attracting everything from aliens to homicidal megalomaniacs who were immortal. Speaking of which, the next time he saw Ra's he was going to have to make sure the Demon's Head knew just what he thought of his  _obsession_ with his son. Batman didn't realize how bad it was until the Titans told him after Tim had disappeared, and boy was he  _pissed_ about it.

"Uh, sorry, I have to go-" spider guy started, but Batman swiftly cut him off.

"You're taking us with you," the Dark Knight stated, leaving no room for argument. "We can help."

"So you're thinking the 'ninja people things' might be Ra's too, huh?" Flash asked, blue eyes twinkling from under the cowl. "And that Tim might be  _our_ Tim?"

Batman only grunted in response, studying the spider guy as he looked between them. "Well uh, I'm Spider-Man," he said. "I'm guessing you guys aren't really from around here, seeing as I've never seen either of you in my life, and I like to think I have a pretty good memory," he began to ramble, but seemed to cut himself off when he realized. "We should probably head to the Tower. You think you two can keep up? I have a pretty fast travel time."

Flash snorted. "I think we can find a way."

And one minute later, three heroes were dashing through New York, one swinging on webs, one running at breakneck speeds through the streets, and one grappling from building to building.

In the distance, all of them could see Avengers Tower explode from the inside.      


	33. In Which Everything That Can Go Wrong, Will Go Wrong (And There Are Explosives, Too!)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It's all starting to come together ;)
> 
> Also, school is starting up for me soon, so here comes the chaos

Like always, that was the moment everything decided to go wrong.

Tim hadn't even taken a step towards the table where the device that would track other worldly frequencies (A.K.A, his frequency) and hopefully help them find out where everyone else was before the entire Tower erupted into red light and sirens. He looked up at the lights, a feeling of oncoming dread bubbling deep in his stomach. "Is this normal?" he asked Steve slowly, looking towards the man. That was all he was able to do before the glass around the lab shattered, and in came dozens of ninjas dressed in all black, all moving as one impressive unit.

Fuck.  _Super_ fuck.

Billy and Damian recognized the League of Assassins immediately, both of them jumping to their feet while Steve unsheathed the shield strapped to his back. Tim took out his bo, observing the ninjas, noticing how they were doing anything except waiting. Waiting for what?

Tim found out a second later when Ra's al Ghul appeared in the sea of his minions, a poisonous smirk on his face. He looked so  _smug,_ but that was typical Ra's for the most part. This must have been all part of his plan from the beginning, to get Tim to find the Avengers, but why? Ra's always had a reason for doing this, and so far, he couldn't seem to figure that part out.

"Detective," the Demon's Head said in a silky voice. "We've been a little distant with one another lately."

Tim growled, ignoring Steve's attempt to ask who the hell this was. That could wait for later. "I liked the distance, it increased my chance of staying alive til the end of the day." 

Ra's chuckled at that, seemingly amused by Tim's words, his venomous green eyes looking from Tim to Damian to Billy to Steve. "They weren't part of the plan, but I guess I can improvise," the Demon's Head said to himself, unsheathing a gleaming sword. And that's when all Hell broke loose.

The ninjas moved as one towards the heroes, who were instantly ready to fight back. Tim went after Ra's while Damian and Steve began taking on the ninjas, Billy running towards the stairs to make it to the higher levels where the rest of the Avengers were, knowing that they would probably need help. He was still a little hesitant on calling on the Wizard, seeing that he was surrounded by electrical machines and he still didn't know if the Wizard could even reach him, but he could do  _something._

When Billy reached the upper floor, he found that somehow it was even more chaotic up here. Ninjas along with what looked to be Poison Ivy, Joker, Harley Quinn, Scarecrow, and some others the boy didn't recognize were fighting the Avengers, and they seemed to be losing. They just didn't have the numbers, and they were caught off guard , even if they seemed to know who the rest of the villains were. Now that he thought about it, Billy did think some of them looked familiar and that Bucky and Thor might have mentioned them at one point, but the names went over his head. If only he had the wisdom of Solomon to remind him.

"Pathetic heroes," he heard a very  _familiar_ voice boom, and instantly Billy froze in place, just out of sight from the rest of the room. What in the world was  _Black Adam_ doing here? If his nemesis was in this world, then he didn't have much a choice to try and become the Champion again, not if they even stood a chance at subduing him.

Nodding to himself grimly, the boy turned his head up and called out,  ** _"SHAZAM!"_**   

 

 

The thing about fighting Ra's al Ghul was that it was simultaneously the easiest and hardest thing Tim has ever done in his life. Easiest because he's done it so many times that he could pretty much do it in his sleep, hardest because the bastard had endless amounts of power and influence he could pull strings with, leading to new surprises every time.

So far, there didn't seem to be anything new, but that just set him on edge more than anything else could. This dance was too familiar, even if he was in a different dimension, surrounded by ninjas and people he wasn't entirely sure he trusted. Ra's was holding back a playing card, watching him try to figure it out.

"What's wrong, Detective?" the Demon's Head mocked as Tim parried his sword strike, shoving him a few feet back. Tim said nothing, looking for an opening in Ra's's stance and finding nothing, as usual. Damian and Steve were steadily taking out one ninjas after the other in the background, not one of them daring to interrupt the duel between their master and his Detective. 

Tim attacked once more, and the two enemies fell into the same furious patterns they always did whenever they fought, each trying to outplay the other, but unable to. Ra's was just too experienced and Tim's mind moved too fast for them to get the upper hand. It was fascinating and deadly to watch.

The teen slid some electrical pellets into his hands, the one that connected to the surrounding technology and harnessed their energy to create an electrical shock. It wouldn't stop Ra's, even if they hit the immortal, but it was definitely a good tactic to startle an opponent. Without thinking twice, Tim threw them on the ground, while at the same time twirling his staff to stop the storm of sword slashes heading his way. A moment later, they activated, making the lights flicker and spark. But that wasn't all that happened, no-

There was a crack of thunder, odd seeing as it was perfectly sunny outside- and a flash of light. Before Tim could wonder what the hell was going on, the Avengers Tower exploded.

The teen only had enough time to think  _why is it always explosions?_ before everything went dark.        


	34. In Which Tim is Finally Found (But Not Really in a Good Way)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm going to try and finish this before I do anything else writing wise, so updates will hopefully be slightly faster than before.

So the old dude just helped Kon focus his hearing to find Tim, that's cool he guesses. Someplace called Avengers Tower of whatever. The thing it, when he says this, their hosts look at him like he's telling a particularly bad joke and don't know how to break it to him. Only the bald guy doesn't look phased by what Kon just said, but he didn't strike the half Kryptonian as someone who was surprised very often. Kon wouldn't either if he could see inside of people's heads.

"We go get Tim now," Black Bat (Cass?) said very matter of factly, very passionate about bringing her brother home. Kon mirrored her thoughts exactly, and he had no doubt that Cassie felt the same. All of them were just ready for Tim to finally come home, no matter who helped them do it. The half Kryptonian already had the Avengers Tower place on lockdown, knowing that if he had to he could fly there in a heartbeat. He  _really_ wanted to, but Ma and Pa's mannerisms prevented him from leaving before saying goodbye.

Damn. No wonder Clark was such a Boy-Scout. 

"Okay, so thanks I guess for... ah... not attacking us and helping find our friend and-" Kon froze, his ear on the Avengers Tower suddenly filled with the sound of a lightning strike and a horrible explosion. "We need to go,  _now!"_ the half Kryptonian yelled, using his superspeed to dart out of the hallway and into the outside. Without thinking he jumped into the air, taking flight and following the sound of Tim's heartbeat, which had abruptly turned sluggish and faint.

He didn't even notice Cassie coming up to fly next to him, Cass, who looked very calm all things considered, in her arms. All he could think about was his best friend, the one they've spent so long searching for, dead right before they found him. The Bats may have a good track record of coming back (5 and 0) but there was no way in Hell Kon was going to test that score now.

Very quickly the rolling hills of wherever they had been turned into high skyscrapers and monuments. In the distance, the tallest skyscraper of them all was smoking heavily, and Kon put in an extra burst of speed to get there in no time.

Whatever this Avengers Tower place was, it was pretty much destroyed, but not only because of the explosion like one might expect. No, not only was this place fried to a crisp, but it was filled with League assassins and villains from his universe, because why the hell not? Just make it a damn holiday at this point, a  _wish you were here!_ postcard that told everybody your location because literally  _everybody_ is fucking  _right here._

Kon even recognized some of the villains that had somehow made their way over to his universe once upon a time, but that felt like so long ago and he really didn't have the mental capacity to try and remember what they did or what their names were. It's just too much. All he did was begin to beat up some fuckers, taking advantage of their stunned forms and hope that none of them had Kryptonite. Cassie and Cass weren't far behind them, delivering their own brand of justice as the ninjas were taken down one by one.

"Who the hell are you?" demanded a guy on the ground, though the demand came off kinda weak seeing as his voice was raspy, probably from the shock of the explosion. He didn't  _seem_ like a bad guy, but you never know in these types of situations.

"Where's Tim?" Kon instead asked, not finding the patience to answer. Logically, he should be able to find his friend since he was so close, but there were so many sounds and noises that the half Kryptonian wasn't sure if he could concentrate long enough to find him.

The guy on the ground, who Kon could now see had arrows and a bow, gave him a sideways look. "You know Tim?"

"I'm his friend," Kon said shortly. "Now I'll ask again:  _where is he?"_

Arrow dude pushed himself up, eyes scanning Kon in a way he was very familiar with, looking for weaknesses and strengths. It was the look of a human used to going against super powered beings and winning. It was the look that appeared on Tim's face nearly every day. 

"How do I know you're not another one of these freaks destroying the Tower?"

Kon snorted, though his patience was running thin fast. "I _am_ one of those freaks about to destroy the Tower if you don't tell me where he is. He's been gone for six fucking months and one way or another I  _will_ find him." 

Arrow dude considered this for a moment, not moving a muscle. By this time both Cassie and Cass had joined him, both an intimidating force to be reckoned with, especially when it came to someone they cared about. His eyes then went to the destruction around him and the various bad guys currently trying to kill them all. Finally, he said, "last I checked, he was upstairs, but that was before the lightning and the explosion."

Kon nodded, turning to his companions and saying, "I'll go find Tim. see if you two can help them with our villains," before rocketing himself up through the ceiling. Might not be the best way, but it's definitely the most efficient. When the half Kryptonian wiped the dust from his eyes, he froze right where he was hovering in the air, suddenly more terrified than he's ever been in his life.

Because right in front of him, was Tim Drake.

And hovering over Tim Drake was none other than Ra's al Ghul.      


	35. In Which Jason and Frank Kinda Get Along (And Batman Makes Everything Worse)

By the time Steph woke up for good about half an hour later, Jason was actually starting to get along with the skull guy and devil dude, which he found out were actually called the Punisher and Daredevil. No one offered up their real name except the woman doing all the medical work, who happened to be named Claire. Honestly, Jason didn't really mind that they weren't giving up their real names. Other dimension or not, it could still be kinda hard to trust someone you just met.

Steph was a ray of purple sunshine, just like always. If you didn't know any better, you'd never think she passed out and needed serious medical attention from being shoved into an otherworldly portal. Or maybe that was just Steph being Steph.

It was probably just Steph being Steph.

And yeah, they probably should have been leaving their new found friends to hopefully try and find the others, but it was just so  _nice_ to just sit down and talk to vigilantes who had no idea who you really were. Sure, you could do that in his dimension, but pretty much everyone who does anything doing with hero stuff knows who the big bad Red Hood is. To just be able to talk and have no fear of judgement, well, that was pretty sweet.

Batman just  _had_ to fuck everything up, did he?

He in the Punisher had been discussing the types of bullets they use when suddenly Jason's comm in his helmet went off, releasing a strong burst of static. All of them stared at it for a moment, faintly hearing what sounded like a voice peaking through the harsh noise. Jason picked up the helmet, taking the comm out of the ear and placing it into his own. "Hello?" he asked roughly, slightly scared about who could be on the other side. For all he knew, some crazy civilian somehow found his frequency and decided to check it out.

_"Hood... Hood are you there?"_ asked a deep, gruff voice. Instantly, both he and Steph looked right at each other, knowing exactly who was on the other side of his comm. She bounced over right next to him from where she was sitting on the bed, both of them ignoring the looks of confusion from their hosts.

"Yeah B, it's me alright. I'm with Spoiler and a few new friends."

"Oh I'm here, and I did  _not_ sign up to take a trip on Captain Marvel Interdimensional Travel. You with Nightwing?"

Batman huffed on the other side, though it was fond. They could both hear wind coming through the comm as well, meaning their mentor must be running around on the rooftops or something. _"No, I got seperated from Nightwing and Captain Marvel. I'm currently with Flash and we also have a new 'friend' of sorts. But I need you both to make your way to the Avengers Tower. Tim is there, and just a minute ago, the entire building exploded. The Tower is infested with League assassins and other villians I can't really see from here. All you need to know is that it's bad. If you can, bring your new friends. Something tells me we're going to need all the help we can get."_

Jason looked at the Punisher and Daredevil, noticing how Daredevil's head was tilted like he was listening for something. "I think we can do that, B," Jason replied before fully facing the duo. "So, which of you can get me to Avengers tower?" 

 

 

10 minutes later, Jason, Steph, Daredevil and the Punisher were all less than a block away from what Batman called the 'Avengers Tower.' His former mentor wasn't lying when he said it was bad, and if Tim and whoever else was in there was trapped by the League, then things automatically just went to worse. 

"What the hell happened here?" the Punisher asked gruffly. "I know this place is attacked like three times a year, but usually Stark doesn't let it get  _this_ bad."

Jason wanted to ask who Stark was, but he knew they didn't have time for that kind of talk. Plus, he was too distracted by the dark storm clouds that had suddenly taken over the sky above the Tower, lightning crackling everywhere. It didn't take too long for four figures to be seen around the storm, and Jason was pretty confident that one of them was Captain Marvel.

"B, we're here," Jason said into the comm, running side by side with Steph. "Looks like there's a huge party happening in the sky. Do I want to know what's going on up there?"

The sounds of Batman fighting came through the comms, but Jason was still able to hear, "Captain Marvel and Thor are doing their best to distract Loki and Black Adam from tearing this entire place down. They're doing a good job so far, but it's not helping that almost our entire Rogues gallery is just  _here."_

Jason felt his stomach sour at those words, a flash of the Pit threatening to boil over. He forced himself to take a deep breath, to remain calm and not boil over. If almost all the Gotham Rogue's were here... there was a very good possibility that the Joker was in town. But he couldn't focus on that right now. 

"Have you found Tim?" Jason asked as the four of them entered in one of the broken windows, instantly being surrounded by Ra's al Ghul's minions. They began working together to take them out, and Jason found himself frankly impressed by the skills of both the Punisher and Daredevil.

Batman grunted again, mumbling, "we're working on that-"

And that's when a dozen teenagers in brightly covered outfits suddenly came through the windows. 


	36. In Which Slade Was Actually Telling the Truth (And It's Always Worse Than it Looks)

Well shit.

That's all Dick could think about as he and his three new friends (Allies? Companions?) approached the Avengers Tower that Jessica had mentioned. It was very impressive compared to the buildings around it, but he couldn't appreciate it like he otherwise would have. All he could think about was Slade telling him that his little brother was trapped up there somewhere, and he had no idea how he was going to find him.

And you know, the smoke and lightning storm at the top didn't help much either.

"Are you sure we should go in there?" asked the man to Dick's left, the one that told him to call him Luke. Dick shrugged, already preparing his escrima sticks as they approached the entrance to the building. He could see some civilians trapped inside, and what looked to be League of Assassin members holding them at sword point, along with other ninjas that Dick didn't recognize. 

"Is that Madame Gao's ninja army or whatever?" questioned Jessica. She sounded annoyed and tense all at the same time, and Dick had no doubt that whoever this 'Madame Gao' was, that she's tangled with her before. 

"Some of them might be," Dick replied, getting ready to break the glass to get in. "But at least half of them are from the League of Assassins. They uh, work for the eco terrorist megalomaniac dude who happens to have a creepy obsession with my brother." He shuddered. "Now, I'd  _really_ like to start kicking some ass if that's okay with you all."  

And with that, the four vigilantes kicked down the door and well, started kicking some ass. The ninjas were obviously not expecting them, and the element of surprise really worked in their favor here. Dick took on as many of the League's assassins as he dared, smoothly leaping from one enemy to the other and taking them down in seconds. He also watched in amazement out of the corner of his eyes as his new friends took everything in stride, not even hesitating once.

Jessica straight up punched some dudes and sent them flying, Luke just walked into swords slashes without even taking a scratch, and what do you know, Danny really  _did_ have a magical glowing fist. And impressive martial art skills, but that wasn't the point. 

Within a few minutes, all of the ninjas, League or otherwise, were all down for the count. The civilians were ushered out of the building (most of them crying and thanking them profusely) and just like that, the four of them were alone on the main floor.

"Well you guys  _definitely_ know how to kick some ass," Dick said with a smile.

"You ask, we deliver," Danny replied seriously, reminding Dick of a child who took everything literally. Reminding Dick of well,  _Damian._

Suddenly, Dick's comm burst into life, full of static and fuzz, but life nonetheless. He brought his hand up to it, saying, "hello?"

_"Grayson!"_ came brokenly through the static, and his heart clenched when he realized it was his little brother. Was he taken to this dimension too? It would make sense, but how many others were stuck without anyone knowing? A question for later, he guessed.

"Damian is that you?"

_"Of course it's me you imbecil! I'm assuming your at this Avengers Tower place too if I'm able to call you, Father was able to find Todd by altering his frequency but I have not had the time to do so as well."_ There was clanging in the background, similar sounds to what Dick would hear if Damian ever called him on patrol during an intense fight. 

"Damian, do you know where Tim is?" Dick demanded. He  _had_ to know if Slade was right,  _had_ to know if his little brother was finally  _found._

_"Yes I do, but right now there's a bit of a problem when it comes to that,"_ there was a pause, and Dick had the feeling that whatever was about to come out of Damian's mouth would  _not_ be good.  _"I'm not sure if you know yet or not, but not just you and I was sent over here with Captain Marvel's spell."_

"What are you trying to tell me  _Damian?"_

_"I'm trying to tell you that my Grandfather has Tim."_


	37. In Which Batman is Pissed Off (And Ra's is a Fuckwad)

Ra's al Ghul always made Batman a special kind of pissed off. When they first battled each other, Batman was pissed that he could never stop the Demon's Head from carrying out world destruction plan after world destruction plan. They were equal (well,  _mostly_ equal) in intellect, but Ra's had the advantage of experience and a near infinite amount of resources at his disposal. That's another check in the pissed off section.

Batman could handle that kind of being pissed off, though. Ra's was far from the only villain that regularly made him want to smash his head into a wall, despite the fact that from the outside, you could never tell. 

But then  _Tim_ came into Batman's world, and suddenly Ra's al Ghul wasn't only interested in the destruction of Gotham and making sure that his precious Pits stayed intact, no, suddenly, he was interested in the newest Robin with a creepy fascination that took Batman years to realize it was happening. He honestly didn't really figure it out until after Tim got him back from whatever time stream mumbo jumbo that he was stuck in, but it was pretty easy to spot once Tim retold his story about his time with the League of Assassins. 

Ra's had tried (and failed, thank the gods) multiple times to get Tim over onto his side, or at least make their terms more friendly than before. And seeing his third son so  _uncomfortable_ around and even just talking about the Demon's Head made Batman a  _new_ kind of pissed off, something that was deeply rooted in parental instincts that most would say didn't exist. They existed alright, he just had a crappy way of showing it most of the time.  

Amd now, Ra's's obsession for Tim caused them all to get sent to a different dimension, fighting villains he's never seen before and fighting with heroes that he knew nothing about. That kid that was dressed as a spider (which he and Flash later learned was called Spider-Man) lead them to the place where Tim was being held, only for them to find out that the building (which Spider-Man called the Avengers Tower) was on fire and swarmed by League Assassins and villains. Flash was almost immediately taken away from Batman and Spider-Man by a yellow streak, red joining in streaming across the rooftops. 

Batman had no doubt that the yellow streak was Eobard Thawne, and trusted Flash to deal with it the best he could. It would suck to have the speedster out of the fight for a while, but it was necessary. Thawne was not a villain you simply left hanging around.

He and Spider-Man managed to get to the top floors of the Tower, easily shattering the glass of the windows and fighting the assassins there. He found Damian almost immediately doing the exact same, and felt a rush of relief that at least one of his children were safe. They fought side by side like Batman and Robin always do, and in the middle of all the chaos both of them managed to get into contact with Dick and Jason, who also got sent here through the portal. Hopefully they were all one their way to this Avengers Tower.

During this, two other people began fighting at their sides, people who were not Spider-Man. Batman recognized one of them as the Winter Soldier, one of the men that accidently got sent through a portal made by Ra's, but he didn't recognize the man dressed in red white and blue. He looked like a walking American flag, and even though they looked nothing alike, he couldn't help but be reminded of Superman.

The Winter Soldier and this new guy worked together flawlessly, finishing out each others moves, continuously throwing a giant metal shield back and forth, it was like they shared the same thoughts. With their help, the assassins numbers became smaller and smaller until there were only a few stragglers left.

"We need to get to the other floors and help them," said the man in the red white and blue. "I'm guessing you're a friend of Tim's?"

His tone of voice implied that he knew more than he was letting on, causing Batman to narrow his eyes behind the cowl. His voice was slightly bitter, like he had already formed an opinion before he even saw the Dark Knight. And seeing that he not only knew who Tim was, but his name as well, clearly something went down between his third son and the heroes that reside here.

Batman chose not to answer the question, instead demanding, "Where is he."   

The man seemed a bit put off that his question was not met with an answer, but Damian answered it for him. "He's with Grandfather, Father. I saw Superboy attempting to free him, but he seemed to have failed."

Batman grunted, taking a look around the room to indeed see Superboy passed out on the ground. He swiftly went over to the young Super, checking his pulse and breath to find that he was just fine. "He must have been knocked out with some kind of Kryptonite gas," he said. "Typical, knowing Ra's' resources." He turned to look at Damian. "Robin, who else is here that you know of besides Nightwing?"

"Just Captain Marvel. Last I heard he was fighting Black Adam and that man with the weird horned helmet that broke into Arkham."

"Is this Captain Marvel guy the one that made lightning hit the Tower?" asked the man in red, white and blue. "We heard it strike, and a moment later Thor- one of our guys but if from what I understand is correct you already know him- darted outside with this guy dressed in red."

Damian scoffed. "If Batson really did turn into Captain Marvel, then yes, lightning would most certainly be involved. That would explain why the entire Tower went black for a minute before everything rebooted. It would also explain all the smoke as well." Right on que, various cracks of thunder rolled through the air, causing dust to tumble from the walls around them. Outside, the blue sky went black from clouds suddenly appearing, lightning sparking with energy like no one's ever felt before. Batman knew that Captain Marvel was powerful, but this felt like even more than he was capable of creating.

"What going on?" grumbled Superboy, who must have finally woken up because of the noise. He shakily stood up, still regaining his strength. The lights of the Tower flickered, and one light bulb popped from the amount of current running through it.

And that was the moment the loudest thunder strike anyone has ever heard came down on Earth.      


	38. In Which There is a Lot of Lightning (Like Seriously, a LOT of Lightning)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you to everyone for being so patient with my crazy schedule, it really means a lot :)

Okay, so here's the thing: Billy didn't mean to pretty much blow up the entire Tower.

He really didn't, honest. It's just magic always mixed weirdly with technology, and too much electricity was  _bad_ for technology, so when you combine and make magical electricity and force too much of it into a building that it pretty much all technology- well, you're bound to get some bad results. Like explosions, apparently. And a lot of screaming, which is to be expected when it comes to any explosion, but especially one that was literally the fault of a twelve year old.

Oh well, it was either stay as Billy Batson, be useless, and let Black Adam do whatever he pleased on the battlefield, or this. To be frank, Billy prefered this, mainly since he didn't actually  _destroy_ the building with saying the Wizard's name (meaning this place must be made out of something  _strong)_ and it caught Black Adam off guard. Sure, it caught  _everyone_ of guard, but that didn't mean the element of surprise wasn't helpful in forcing Adam out of the Tower and into the outside.

It was very helpful, even if his nemesis recovered quickly and a big fight between them immediately started, just as it always does. Adam always had some grudge he wanted to work out, and well, most of the time it was directed at Billy. This was usually because Billy is one of the only people in the universe that could go toe to toe with him no problem, and you know, sworn nemesis and all that.

But here's another thing: fighting Black Adam is _hard._ He's easily Billy's most powerful villain, and one of the most powerful villains in the universe. You'd think after all this time fighting him that Billy would find it easier, but it's just as hard as the first time he ever fought Adam, when he didn't even know how to use most of his powers yet. He has no idea why this is, mostly because Adam never really has any new tricks (living since Egyptian times apparently does that to you).

Any way, the point is, Billy can keep is own head in check when he's fighting Adam, but just barely. Add someone else into that mix, and well, he's pretty much screwed. Having the powers of gods only gets you so far it looks like.

And that's exactly what happened when a familiar man dressed in green and gold appeared on the roof of the Tower, throwing various daggers and spells that Billy was just able to dodge while still keeping up the high magickal energy that was required when fighting his nemesis. He remembers tracking down Loki with Thor when they both appeared in his universe, but Billy never got a close up look at the mischief god like he does now. He was honestly more annoying than anything, but trying to deal with Loki and Black Adam at the same time was just impossible.

Adam kicked Billy in the chest from his momentary distraction, forcing him in an arc through the air, nearly slamming him against the side of the tower. That would most definitely  _not_ be good. The last thing they needed was for the entire Tower to collapse because godly beings were thrown into it a few too many times.

In the corner of Billy's eye, he saw Thor suddenly appear and go for Loki, who growled at the sight of his brother entering the fight. Billy didn't have time to thank Thor, or even give a thumbs up before Adam was on him again, his entire form spitting magical lightning. 

Then, sometime later (when keeping track of time really didn't seem to matter much anymore) yet  _another_ villain (or at least, Billy is  _assuming_ is a villain) joins the fight. He (like nearly everyone else) is covered in electricity, though his seems a little less godly and a little more  _normal._ Billy has really no idea where he came from- one moment he wasn't there, the next he was kinda thing- but he was, and he was _definitely_ fighting on Adam and Loki's side. 

What a shame. Why is it that only the villains get back up and not the heroes? Billy would  _love_ to have another hero on their side, just to even the odds out a little bit if nothing else.

And that's the moment the electricity guy suddenly gets thrown from his place in the sky (which apparently flying is a thing when it comes to electrical supervillains) by an unnatural gust of wind, growling with bitter recognition,  _"Storm."_

When Billy glances up, he sure notices the clouds that weren't there before, and he can guarantee that it wasn't his or Adam's. Their storms were more magical feeling, appearing out of seemingly nowhere and destroying anything that was in reach. This storm felt more  _real,_ and even if the movement and speed of the clouds were no way Mother Nature's doing (nice lady by the way, he wondered if she was in this universe-) there was the unmistakable smell of real rain that his storms lacked. 

Thunder rumbled above them, causing all the fighters, heroes and villains to look up at the unexpected storm. Right at the front of it all was a woman with dark skin and shock white hair, her eyes glowing with electricity as she hovered gracefully (was that even possible? Could you hover  _ungracefully-?)_ She felt godlike without being godlike, extremely powerful without the title that usually followed.

Billy liked her instantly. Even more so when she joined the fight on  _his side!_

Hallelujah, maybe there was a god or two listening to him in this universe. 

He found out very quickly why the electricity guy called her Storm, all of the winds, clouds, rain and lightning at her disposal. She didn't just use parts of her powers in a fight like Billy did, but used the entirety of her abilities like it was second nature, and it probably was. 

Together, he, Thor, and Storm began to push back the villains, their moves getting sloppier and angier with each missed hit. But Billy still knew that what they were doing wouldn't be enough to take down Black Adam from this fight, that they had to completely drain his magical energy and send him back to his universe before his nemesis ever stopped. Billy had the power to do that, he knew he did.

The problem was if he could survive the aftermath. The first time he nearly wiped himself out, all of his energy gone and even his mortal form left weak. If he had to do it again...

Well, he didn't know. Anything could happen at that point. 

But he also wasn't alone this time, wasn't the only one who could summon magic or the lightning needed to open a portal. He had two other people at his side that could help him.

Having help really, you know,  _helped._ Maybe he should ask for a sidekick or something... then again, there were only so many people in the universe that could handle the threats he handled. Currently, there were three of them in the same place, which was really lucky.

Billy darted over to Thor after pushing Adam back with a burst of strength, saying, "I need your help with something!"

Thor glanced at him with a raised eyebrow. "And what would that be, Son of Bat?"

No matter how many times Thor said it, him calling Billy 'Son of Bat,' was just hilarious on so many levels. "I need a lot of lightning of the magical variety. I'll tell you went to do that!" He then dashed to the woman, who was in the middle of her own battle against the electricity man (which he's fairly sure he heard her call Electro). He easily flew through her gale force winds, though it was hard to tell if it was because he was powerful enough to pass them or if she simply let him in. 

"How much lightning can you summon if I asked you to?" Billy yelled over the winds, his hair flying around him. Her glowing eyes turned to him, a small smile appearing on her face. 

"As much as you need," was Storm's reply, which made Billy smile in delight. 

"Okay, just wait for my signal!" 

He flew back to Adam, who was just just now reorienting himself. He seemed more drained than usual, but Billy felt the same way. Though they both still had access to the Rock of Eternity, the connection was slightly muffled, like a fuzzy television connection. Billy would bet that the distance between universes was what caused that fuzziness, and there didn't seem to be a powerful source of all magic here like back home. All of this made the Champions slightly weaker than normal, their energy dwindling with no easy way to regain it. It was the perfect time to strike, that is, if Billy could summon the last of his godly energy to hold Adam down. 

And there was still that slight possibility that he could very much explode into a million magical atoms because there was too much power for his body to hold.

Or that he would be sent back to his universe along with Adam.

Or that he would sent Adam to a completely different universe with no way to tell where he went.

Or that it might, you know, just not  _work._

Or that it will work, and Billy will die falling to his death in his mortal form before anyone else realized it.

You know, the normal kind of stakes when it comes to these sorts of things.

Oh well. He's faced worse odds before.

Nodding to himself, Billy channeled the speed of Mercury, screaming,  _"NOW!"_ as he flew pass both of his allies, right into Adam.Time seemed to slow down as he felt not only his own lightning, but Thor's and Storm's lightning chased after him. At the last possible moment, the second he hit Black Adam, Billy yelled  _ **"SHAZAM!"**_ as loud as he could with as much magical energy as he could pour into it.

The lightning that struck him, the power of all three of them, was deafening. It hurt more than anything else had ever hurt, indescribable pain that lasted only a moment before it was gone, but the aftershocks still coursing through him.

Billy stayed there a moment, realizing that he was no longer charging at Adam, that his nemesis was nowhere to be seen.

And that was the moment he plummeted to the ground.    

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you for reading! Feel free to leave a comment.
> 
> ~Magical_Devil_Alex


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